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A(  THOR 


ANACREON 


TITLE: 


SELECT  ODES  OF 


ANACR 


IZ 


ON 


PL  A  CE : 


LONDON 


DA  TE : 


1802 


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This  book  is  due  two  weeks  from  the  last  date  stamped 
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SELECT  ODES 


OP 


\  N  A  C  R  E  0  N, 


WITH 


CRITICAL  ANNOTATIONS. 


TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED 


).ANSLATIONS  AND  IMITATIONS 


OF  OTHER 


ANCIENT  AUTHORS. 


Hv   7.iE  LATE  Rev.  HERCULES  YOUNGE. 

And  publishc'l  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Drought. 


:l£kOa>  kvxx^norn  avnafnro. — Anthol, 


LONDON. 


ED    FOR    VERNOR    AND    HOOD,    POULTRY, 

By  Janes  Swan,  Angel  Street,  Newgate  Street. 
■    \ 

1802. 


X 


.-■Vi 


TO  THE 


UIGHT   HONOURABLE 


THE  EARL  OF  MOIllA. 


53757 

'29FEB84 


M 


A 


My  Lord, 

iViNG  Ions;  contemplated  the  cha- 

u  :ter  o<'E«rl  ISfoira  with  silent,  though 

ce 'e  veneration,  it  is  niij^usMoie  for 

Vb  resist  profiting  by  the  opportunity 

kxi  the  publication  of  these  posthu- 

U'.  papers,  of  a  near  and  dear  rela- 

3,1 1  affords,    of   testifying   it   to    the 

^^<'c\j,  by  inscribing  them  to  a  noble- 

Ur)nl  who  has  taste  to  appreciate,  and 

»Arledge  to  distinguish,  their  merits: 

]  t-is  a  highly  gratifying  circumstance 

iiid,  that,  though  I  am  not  prepared, 

a  2 


IV 


DEDICATION. 


or,  I  fear,  competent,  to  make  this  n* 
nifestation  by  my  own  talents,  yet  I  si 
not  go  out  of  my  family  to  assure  yc 
lordship,  that  I  am 

Your  very  obedient, 

humble  servant, 


Robert  DrouIgi 


dairies^  Worcester, 
8th  of  May,  1802. 


P 

\ 


il 


V 


^i'*"  * 


PREFACE. 


s  easier  to  imagine  than  to  describe  the 

'?le  >ure  I  feh  on  receiving  my  friend  Mr. 

^'rntt's  opinion,  confirming  my  own,  and  that 

'    •  arious   others,    whom    I   had    consaked, 

.1    the    Anacreontics,    translated    by    my 

led  and  ingenious  relative ;    more  espe- 

/,  as  they  could  not  have  received  any 

in  their  judgement  from   the  partiaUty 

ti.       l^^ight  naturally  be  supposed  to  influence 

mirRj     And,  yet,  had  no  such  endearing  af- 

7  subsisted  between  me  and  the  author, 

'.  persuaded   I  should  have  thought  and 

ieii,  ^s  I  expressed  myself,  on  the  high  me- 

''^    of  the  translations:    and  I  am  particu- 

proud,  that  my  friends  in  general  sanc- 

tK':.  ipy  idea  of  there  being  greater  delicacy, 

V    if   I  may   use   the  terms  of  one  of  the 

most  ingenious  and  learned  of  those  friends, 

t  warmeft  glow  of  passion,  shaded  by  a 

lier  modesty  in  such  of  the  odes  as   re- 


VI 


PREFACE. 


quired  it."     Though  it  must  have  beer 
a  very   skilful    hand   that   these    chaste^ 
touches  were  given,   without  injury  to 
rich  and  joyous  imagery  which  character^- 
the  Grecian  bard. 

*'  A  chaste  yet  animated  selection  of 
captivating  Odes  of  the  Teian  bard," 
serves  Mr.  Pratt,  in  a  letter  now  before 
*'  giving,  in  a  fashionable  pocket  volume   ihe 
BEAUTIES   of   Anacreon,    in   a    liberal, 
guarded,  translation,  so  as  to  preserve  th. 
lightful  sport,  the  jovial  sentiments,  andj;    -' 
ful   spirit  of  the  original,   without  brir,^  ng 
forward  anything  that  o'ersteps  the  bcj  i'^''^- 
of  modesty,  appears  to  be  ^  desideratii?     m 
English  poetry. 

•*  The  majority  of  the  notes  will  be  j  •  ' 
fving  chiefly  to  those  who  are  intimate      '- 
the  Greek  ;  yet,  besides  that  the  commenuxy 
is  too  valuable  to  be   lost,    it  seems    t 
dient  to  admit  this  estimable  addition, 
out  swelling  the  size,  or  increasing  the  ; 
of  the  book,  by  printing  the  original  t( 
each  ode.     These  illustrations  not  only  i 
an  agreeable  and  general  light  upon  the  'sub 


\ 


PREFACE. 


Vll 


y-Vi  .J.' 


l\ 


[ 


t  and  the  author,  that  may  assist  the  En- 

-  .h  reader,  but  present  the  learned  with  op- 

-  tunities  of  reference,   augmenting  at  the 
.   le  time  the  reputation  of  the  erudite  trans- 


'j.or. 


a 


I  will  now  own,  that  my  sense  of  the  ex- 

■ence  of  these  selections,  aided,  no  doubt, 

•    my  sincere  respect  for  the  translator,  has 

g  inspired  a  latent  wish  to  extend  the  plea- 

e  I  received,  by  making  them  public— I 

i-,    therefore,    scarcely  help  repeating  the 

■  1  .'-'Tee  of  gratification  I  experience  from  the 

ze:>l  with  which  the  friend,  above-mentioned, 

offerst  to  assist  me   in  arranging   the   manu- 

^.;^;p^s, — an  offer,  of  which   I  have  availed 

j^ijself  with  the  utmost  alacrity:  and  I  have 

endeavoured,  at  his  request,  to  collect  such 

Iris   memorabilia  of   the  translator,    as  my 

I  memory,   or  that   of   my  friends,    can 

lish. 


\ 


AN 


ACCOUNT 


OF 


THE   TRANSLATOR. 


k^ 


The  account  of  the  ingenious  and  learned  author 
of  the  following  translation,  the  late  Reverend 
iiERCULRs  YouNGE,  Is  Very  scanty  of  materials. 
His  grandmother  was  daughter  of  the  illustrious, 
vut  unfortunate  Montmorenci,  High  Constable  of 
I  Vance  j  who,  after  the  revocation  of  the  famous 
edict  of  Nantes,  was  imprisoned  as  a  Hugonot. 
The  violent  and  indignant  exertions  of  this  eminent 
Frenchman,  to  prevent  his  enemies  from  loading 
him  with  chains,  occasioned  the  rupture  of  a  blood- 
\  essel,  which  quickly  terminated  his  sufferings  and 

his  life. 

The  daughter  of  Montmorenci  married  Le  Jeune, 
,  Hugonot  gentleman  of  high  distinction,  who, 
rireading  lest  his  son  Lewis  (the  father  of  our  Au- 


THE  TRANSLATOR. 


XI 


*  ACCOUNT  OF 

thor)  should  imbibe  the  popish  religion,  sent  him 
privately,  to  Holland.  From  thence  he  was  invited 
to  Ireland  by  his  maternal  uncle,  the  pious  Dr 
Drelmcourt,  who  was  appointed  to  the  deanery  of 
Armagh  by  William  the  Third,  and  is  well  known 
to  the  literary  world  by  his  celebrated  treatise  on 
Death. 

On  the  arrival  of  Lewis  in  Ireland,  he  translated  his 
name,  Le  Jeune.to  its  English  equivalent  '^Youn^e; 
and  was  entered  a  fellow  commoner  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Dublin,  where  he  was  educated  at  his  uncle's 
expense.     His    grandmother,    who    remained    ii> 
France,  had  appointed  him  heir  to  her  splendid 
fortunes :   but,  before  she  could  procure  an  agen*:  ot 
approved  integrity,  she  was  seised  by  a  violent  dis 
order,  which  obliged  her  to  intrust  the  whole  of  h^ 
immense  property  to  the  care  of  a  popish  pries, 
who,  after  solemnly  promising  to  convey  it  to  hci 
grandson  Lewis,    fraudulently  converted    the  rica 
prize  to  his  own  use,  asserting,  that  it  was  contrai  v 
to  the  dictates  of  his  tender  conscience  to  give  &o 
much  money  to  a  heretic. 

This  was  not  the  only  loss,  great  as  it  might  b 
which   our    author's  father  had  to  lament  j    k 
about  the  same  time,  he  was  deprived  of  the  i: 
sistance  and  friendship  of  his  uncle,  whom  he  hf  n 
disobliged  by  an  eariy  marriage  with  a  lady  of  gn 


■4,..  . 


s^,& 


V^cauty  and  accomplishments,  but  not  of  equal  rank, 
.  -an  offence  rarely  forgiven  by  ambitious  or  avan- 

f'ious  parents. 

Thus  circumstanced,  he  was  thrown  on  his  lite- 
rary talents  for  support.    But,  possessing  a  brilhant 
natural  genius,  highly  improved  by  academical  edu- 
nation,  his  pen  readily  procured  him  a  handsome 
subsistence,  so  long  as  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield  pre- 
,ided  as  chief  governor  of  Ireland.     Durmg  that 
.plendid  aera,  Mr.  Younge  published  a  poem,  en- 
itled,  ''  The  Leveer     The  easy,  flowing  numbers, 
..>oint^  satire,  delicate  irony,  and  polished  wit  of 
'this  little  piece,  strongly  recommended  him  to  his 
lordship's  notice.     The  earl  presented  him  to  the 
.  ,nly  church-preferment  vacant  during  his  adminis- 
u-ation,  and  obtained  for  him,  from  his  successor,  a 
promise  of  the  first  bishoprick  that  should  fall  in  his 
ift.     These  gracious  intentions  were  frustrated  by 
Mr.  Younge's  unexpected  death:  and  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted, that  an  interefting  literary  correspondence 
'retween  Lord  Chesterfield  and  Mr.  Younge  has 

l.«en  lost. 

Mr.  Younge's  eldest  son  (our  author)  was  edu- 
ated  at  the  university  of  Dublin,  where  he  was 
minently  distinguished  for  his  literary  talents,  and 
he  strict  propriety  of  his  conduct.  When  or- 
iained,  the  Bishop  of  Waterford,  at  the  desire  of  Lord 


xn 


ACCOUNT,  &:c.' 


Chesterfield,  who  still  extended  to  him  his  patronacr^ 
gave  him  a  valuable  living  in  his  diocese.     Mr. 
Younge  usually  resided  at  Carvick  on  Suir,  where 
his  time  was  divided  between  study,  and  the  con 
scientious  discharge  of  his  parochial  duties.     Di 
Newton,  late  bishop  of  Bristol,  acknowledges  him 
self  indebted  to  our   author  for  several  ingeniou , 
hints,  in  his  well-known  Dissertations  on  the  Pro- 
phecies. 

Mr.  Younge  remained  in  retirement,  greatly  u 
spected  by  all  who  had  the  pleasure  of  his  acquain- 
ance.     He  was  usually  called  the  Christian   S( 
crates,   on  account  of  his  uncommon  patience  i 
cheerfully  submitting  to  a  wife  whose  temper  pn 
cured  her  the  'appellation  of  a  serond  Xanthipp«.- 
Though  our  author  survived  his  thirteen  childte? 
and  languished  for  many  years  under  a  painful  di^ 
ease  j  yet  he  bore  his  misfortunes  with  that  pioji.^ 
resignation,  which,  by  precept  and  example,  he  hal 
always  enforced  on  the  minds  of  his  parishioners.- 
He  died  the  14th  of  January,  17QS,  aged  77  j  ao 
mired  for  his  talents,  and  revered  for  his  virtues. 


THE 


%■■ 


'-^k- 


J 


LIFE  OF  ANACREON 


Anacreon,  a  Greek  poet,  was  born  atTeos,  a 
vea-port  of  Ionia.     Madame  Dacier  endeavours  to 
prove   from   Plato,    that   he   was    a  kinsman  of 
Solon,    and   consequently  allied    to  the  Codnd^ 
.he  noblest  family  in  Athens  j  but  this  is  not  suf- 
nciently  supported.     The  time  when  he  flounshed 
is  uncertain  3  Eusebius  placing  it  in  the  62d,  Suidas 
1  the  52d,  and  Mr.  Le  Fevre  in  the  72d,  Olym- 
.iad      He  is  said  to  have  been  about  eighteen  years 
of  age,  when  Harpagus,  the  general  of  Cyrus,  came 
•rith  an  army  against  the  confederate  cities  of  the 
lo'nians  and  iEolians.     The  Milesians  immediately 
.Ibmitted  themselves  5    but  the  Phocaeans,  when 
they  found  themselves  unable  to  withstand  the  ene- 
my, chose  rather  to  abandon  their  country  than 
.heir  liberty  ;  and,  getting  a  fleet  together,  trans- 
ported themselves  and  their  families  to  the  coast  of 
France,  where,  being  hospitably  received  by  Nan- 
nus,  king  of  the  country,    they  built  Marseilles. 
TheTeians  soon  followed  their  example  j  for,  Har- 
nagus  having  made  himself  master  of  their  walls, 
they  unanimously  went  on  board  their  ships,  and, 
nilin^  to  Thrace,   fixed   themselves  in  the   city 


XIV 


LIFE    OF    ANACREOX. 


LIFE    OF    ANACREON, 


XV 


Abdera.     They  had  not  been  there  long,  when  ti  .> 
Thracians,  jealous  of  their  new  neighbours,  endea- 
voured to  give  them  disturbance  j  and  in  these  con^ 
flicts  it  seems  to  have  been,  that  Anacreon  lost  tho.:^ 
friends  whom  he  celebrates  in  his  epigrams.     Th 
poet  had  certainly  a  most  delicate  wit,  but  was  tc  -, 
fond  of  pleasures ;  for  love  and  wine  had  the  di* 
posal  of  all  his  hours.     Ovid  himself,  though" so 
great  a  libertine,  censures  Anacreon  for  devoting 
his  Muse  entirely  to  Bacchus  and  Venus  : 

Quid,  nisi  cum  multo  Venercm  corifundeie  vino, 
Pr^cepit  lyrici  Te'ia  musa  senis  ? 

Anacreon  left  Abdera,  and  went  to  the  court  <:.i 
Polycrates,  at  Samos,  where  he  was  received  with 
great  marks  of  friendship  :  and  it  was  here  he^e- 
came  enamoured  with  the  handsome  Bathylluf^, 
whom  Horace  mentions  in  the  following  passacyerl 

Non  aliter  Samio  di^unt  arsisse  Bathyilo 

Anacreon  ta  TeVum, 
Qui  persaepe  cava  testudine  flevit  amorem. 

He  is  said  also  to  have  loved  the  fair  Cleobulus 
whom  he  had  like  to  have  killed,  when  a  child,  in 
the  arms  of  his  nurse,  by  nidely  running  agains 
her,  as  he  reeled  one  day  through  the  streets  in  li- 
quor ;  and,   not  content  with  this,  he  abused  th*- 
child  with  scurrilous   language.     But    the    nurs  - 


fjffw-^ 


•»»*»i 

'»-.*•.■■ 


wished  he  might  one  day  commend  him  as  much  as 
he  had  then  abused  him  :  and  her  wishes  were  ful- 
filled  •  for,  Cleobulus  growing  to  be   a  beautiful 
youth,  Anacreon  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  wrote 
several  verses   in  his   pmise.     iElian  has  endea- 
voured to  clear  Anacreon  from  the  suspicion  of  exi- 
tertaining    any  dishonourable    passion    for    these 
youths  3  but  the  general  charge  against  him,  in  this 
-e^^pect,  is  strong.     How  long  Anacreon  continued 
It  Samos,  is  uncertain  j  but  it  is  probable  he  re- 
mained there  during  the  greatest  part  of  the  reign 
of  Polycrates  j  for  Herodotus  assures  us  that  Ana- 
creon was  with  that  prince  in  his  chamber,  when 
he  received  a  message  from  Oroetes,  governor  of 
Sardis,  by  whose  treachery  Polycrates  was  soon  af- 
te'f  betrayed,  and  inhumanly  crucified.     It  seems 
tc  have  been  a  little  before  this,  that  Anacreon  left 
Samos,  and  removed  to  Athens  ;  having  been  in- 
vited thither  by  Hipparchus,  the  eldest  son  of  Pi- 
sistratus,   one  of  the  most  virtuous  and  learned 
princes  of  his  time  j  who,  as  Plato  assures  us,  sent 
an  obliging  letter,  with  a  vessel  of  fifty  oars,  to 
convey  him  over  the  ^gaean  sea.     After  Hippar- 
chus, was  slain  by  the  conspiracy  of  Harmodius  and 
Aristogiton,  Anacreon  returned  to  Teos,  where  he 
remained  till  the  revolt  of  Histiaeus,  when  he  was 
obliged  once  more  to  remove  to  Abdera,  where  he 


XVI 


LIFE    OP    ANACREON. 


died.     The  manner  of  his  death  is  said  to  h 
been  very  extraordinary  j  for  they  tell  us  he  xv.- 
choked  with  a  grape-ftone,  which  he  swallowed, 
he  was  regaling  on  some  new  wine.     A  small  pi 
only  of  Anacreon's  works  remains.     Besides  o 
and  epigrams,  he  composed  elegies,  hymns,  r, 
iambics  :     the   poems   which   are  extant,    con.i^f 
chiefly  of  Bacchanalian    songs   and   love-sonnc  ^ 
They  have  been  frequently  printed  3  but  the  prin 
cipal  editions  are,   that  of  Madame  Dacier,  wiU 
aFrench  version,  at  Paris,  l682,  in  12mo5  andtha.. 
Qf  Joshua  Barnes,  of  Cambridge,  1705,  in  12mo, 
The  Odes  of  Anacreon,says  Rapin,are  flowers,  bea.. 
ties,  and  perpetual  graces  5  it  is  familiar  to  him  tr 
write  what  is  natural,  and  to  the  life  ;  having  m 
air  so  delicate,  so  easy,  and  so  graceful,  that,  amo  .  : 
all  the  ancients,  there  is  nothing  comparable  to  hi  » 
He  flows  soft  and  easy,  every-where  difflising  th. 
joy  and  indolence  of  his  mind  through  his  vers»^ 
and  tuning   his  harp  to  the  smooth  and  pleasai.: 
temper  of  his  soul.     To  the  same  puq^ose  the  lit!  i- 
god  of  love,  as  taught  to  speak  by  Mr.  Cowley  : 

All  thy  verse  is  softer  far 
Than  the  downy  feathers  are 
Of  my  wings,  or  of  my  arrows, 
Of  my  mother's  doves  and  sparrows} 
Graceful,  cleanly,  smooth,  and  round, 
All  with  Venus'  girdle  bound. 


4, 


ANACREON. 


ODE   I*. 


ON  HIS  LYRE. 


s 


\ 


1  LONG  to  sing  of  glorious  spoils. 
Of  Cadmus'  acts,  Atrides'  toils, 

And  higher  flights  to  prove ; 
Yet  see,  the  stubborn  lyre  denies  t, 


*  This  seems  to  make  a  good  preface  to  the 
following  Odes )  for  I  cannot  discover,  as  Mr.  Baimea 
has  done,  any  kind  of  sublimity  in  them. 

f  'Bafinoq.']  We  find  this  noun  in  every  gen- 
ier  J  sometimes  o,  sometimes  i,  and  sometimes  to 
^apCtTw. — The  latest  critic  on  these  Odes,  whom  I 
hUve  seen,  is  a  Monsieur  Pauiv,  the  most  insolent, 
ajbusive,  and  dogmatical  writer  upon  earth.  He 
treats  Barm.$  as  if  he  was  a  remarkable  blockhead. 


Rejects  my  wish'd  attempts  to  rise, 

And  all  its  notes  are  love. 
For  this  Ichang'd  my  ev'ry  string*, 
Resolv'd  Herculean  might  to  sing, 
But  impotently  strove : 


It  is  true  that  Banies  was  not  thought  to  have  mu(-J 
taste  for  poetry,  since  he  tells  us  that  the  wits  ci 
his  university  applied  to  him  the  proverb  Ow?  «r^ 
^t>p«>,  when  busied  about  his  version  j  but  he  retort 
cd,  by  saying,  no,  I  am  not  Oto?,  but  you  want  ©  io, 
vpoq  P^fxt,  which  seems  like  a  pun,  though  1  belie> 
it  was  undesigned.    However,  both^as  to  taste  and|  > 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  language,  he  was  certainl 
not  inferior  to  M.  Pauiv.  [ 

*  H/Ai»>|/a]  /  changed  my  strings  and  the  whdiir 
lyre.  i.  e.  as  Barnes  justly  observes,  I  change  . 
Collahosy  veriiculosy  pectinan,  &c.  but  Pauiu  say. 
the  poet  took  a  different  lyre.  Pro  lyru,  quam  an- 
tea  iuLbebam,  aliam  lyrain  sunisi — (^ul  ncrvos  mutai 
alios  sumit  pro  aliis ;  sic  similiter,  qui  lyram  mutw 
aliam  sumit  pro  alia. — For  what  purpose  shoulc 
Anacreon  change  the  strings  of  an  instrument,  if  h' 
did  not  intend  to  use  it  ?  Why  in  the  forty-eightl' 
Ode  does  he  call  for  Homer's  lyre,  but  ^onjjj  anv^' 


3 


The  lyre,  rebellious,  gave  a  tone, 

For  tender  themes  attun'd  alone ; 

And  all  its  notes  were  love. 


P(jop3V}?,  xvithout  the  bloody  string,  if  strings  were 
not  changed  for  different  tones  ?  Beside,  it  seems 
evident  from  the  whole  ode,  that  the  posopopoeia 
cannot  be  transferred,  from  the  lyre  which  our  bard 
constantly  made  use  of,  to  another ;  for,  says  he,  I 
attempted  epic  poetry,  but  my  lyre  refused  j  and 
though  I  changed  the  strings  and  the  whole  lyre,  yet 
still  it  opposed  my  design.  Now,  if  he  took  a  second, 
we  must  sure  believe  that  it  was  «fAa  (poticua^  xo?^^**:* 
with  bloody  strings :  and  is  it  poetical  justice  to  ima- 
gine, that  a  lyre  would  refuse  tones  for  which  it  was 
contrived,  and  to  which  it  was  ever  accustomed  ?  As 
to  the  phrases,  my  iihole  lyre  is  changed,  the  whole 
countiy  is  changed,  the  man  is  quite  changed,  or  be- 
come a  new  man,  and  such  like,  in  the  sense  of  much 
altered,  they  are  frequent  in  every  language. 

It  seems  to  have  been  the  practice  formerly  to 
use  strings  of  different  sizes  for  different  subjects  : 
and  I  suppose  that  strong  and  thick  ones,  in  the 
forty-eighth  Ode,  above  quoted,  are  meant  by  the 
bloody  strings;  for,  of  several  tuned  unisons,  the 
thickest,  of  necessity,  is  the  loudest. 


Adieu  then,  flatt'ring  hope,  adieu ! 
I  quit  the  great  but  dang'rous  view, 

As  far  my  lyre  above ; 
It  strongly  warns,  it  cries,  *' resign 
**  The  swelling  sound,  the  touch  divine," 

And  plays  alone  to  love. 


sSii 


ODE    11. 

ON    WOMEN. 

Nature  arm'd  the  bull  with  horn; 
Bid  strong  hoofs  the  steed  adorn ; 
Swiftness  lent  the  tim'rous  hare ; 
Lions  might,  and  teeth  severe; 
Fishes  made  to  skim  the  wave ; 
Birds  the  passive  air  to  cleave ; 
Last,  to  man,  superior  sense  * 
Gave,  for  weapons  and  defence. 

*  Prudent iam  viris  dat.  Staph.  Anmositai  et 
hellica  virtus.  Barnes.  Fr ester  prudentiam,  constaU' 
tia  et  robur;  halbutiuiU  interpretes,  nam  sola  prudent 
ticiy  sola  virtus  hellica  nan  sujicit.  Pauw.  I  cannot 
think  that  robur  was  ever  included  in  ^fovviux ;  and 
the  version  of  Barnes  does  not  seem  to  agree  with 
his  annotation  J  for,  says  he,  utut  leones,pcr  se,  etiam 
supra  homines  sint  ?nagnanimi,  non  rare  tamen  hi  etiam 
ilios  aggredi  audent,  arte  nempe  hellica  et  vmatica 


Thus  her  store  of  bounty  drain'd*. 

What  for  woman  yet  remain'd? 
• 
imtntcti.  Si  quis  hie  prudentiam  relit  dtsiirnari,  om- 
nino  illi  ^pomcnr  legendurUj — non  f  poi-rfxa.  Certainly 
prudence  is  necessary,  if  we  design  to  attack  a  lion. 
Indet^d  the  meaningr  of  Aiiacreon  is  so  clear,  that  the 
dispute  does  not  seem  to  be  very  material  j  for,  since 
both  (pfottifjta  and  ^ponncrt;  are  derived  «7ro  t»  ^po>i»r, 
reason  must  be  intended,  in  whatever  manner  ap- 
plied. I  have  seen  it  observed,  but  cannot  recollect 
by  what  author,  that  ^po»»j7i?  denotes  a  speculative, 
and  ^pvnua.  a  practical,  prudence. 

*  r«;»a4|»>,  K.  T.  X.]  Literally,  Nothing  remained  for 
women,  ruuiu  attempts  here  to  be  very  severe  j 
this  thought,  says  he,  \sfrigida  et  inepta.  An  omnia 
qua  exceliunt  igiturjam  enumerata  ?  absit,  absit ;  ubi, 
exempli  gratia,  est  astutia  vulpibus  tributa  ?  &c. — 
Addamaliud:  ipse  bonus  sibi  contradicit ;  nam  ubi 
dixerat,  imturam  nihil  habuisse  amplius  quod  largire- 
turfeminis,  eodem  fere  spiritu  pidchritndinem  protnit 
— hoc  est,  eodem  ore  calidum  etfrigidum  effiare  sijnul. 
With  this  Mr.  Barnes  agrees  ;  for  those,  he  thinks, 
who  render  f fomfAot  prudence,  nimis  injurii  mnt  muli- 
ebri  sexui.  Hence  it  appears,  that,  according  to 
the  sentiments  of  our  critics,  the  word  nothing  must 
alwavs  strictly  denote  non-entity,  or,  according  to 


Beauty,  captivating  charms, 
Pow'rful  o'er  the  force  of  arms — 

the  vulgar  phraseology.  Nothing  at  all  j    whereas 
all  things,  all  men,  nothing,  no  mm,  and  such-like 
expressions,  are  generally  used  for  most,  or  few,  in 
every  language.   In  my  apprehension,  the  poet  says 
only,  that  Nature  had  but  a  few  things  remaining, 
out  of  which  she  could  make  a  choice.     Pauw  goes 
on — sed  quid  ?  an  pulchritudo  non  communis  quoqui 
ill  is  (viris),  et  ut  mulieres  sunt  pulchrce,  ita  rmres 
etiam  sunt  pukhri?   de  eo  non  dubitandum.—Yerj 
tnie  sometimes :  yet  methinks  that  he  should  not 
forget  horses,  since  a  fine  horse  is  doubtless  a  beautiful 
creature.  Is  it  not  sufficient,  in  such  an  ode  as  this, 
to  describe  any  person  or  thing  by  a  characteristic  } 
but  if  a  characteristic  means  only  a  property  or  qua- 
lity which  some  being,  or  species  of  beings,  has  in 
exclusion  of  all  others,  I  suppose  that  a  proper  cha- 
racteristic is  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  creation ; 
fishes,  bats,   insects,   &c.  flyj     birds,   beasts,   &c. 
swim,   and  this  kind  of  connexion  is  plainly  ob- 
servable through  all   the  world.     Our  inimitable 
Milton  gives  the  following  description  of  Adatn  and 
Eve  ; 

For  contemplation  he,  and  valour,  form'd ; 
For  softness  she,  and  sweet  attractive  grace. 


9 


Beauty,  whose  imperial  sway 
Fire,  and  steel,  and  all  obey! 

Though  some  men  are  handsome,  and  some  wo- 
men contemplative  or  resolute,  I  believe  that  no 
reader  ever  thought  these  epithets  injurious  to  either 
sex,  or  found  any  sort  of  impropriety  in  them.  The 
ladies  are  very  properly,  in  our  language,  xar*  i|ox»j», 
styled  the  Fair,  However,  Pmiw  strikes  Opposi- 
tion dumb,  by  adding,  {^ui  non  sentit  hcec  inepta  esse, 
et  7/iale  coagnientat/Ty  nihil  revera  sentit ,  which  is  his 
general  proof  on  all  occasions.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  we  may  understand  nihil  here  in  the  limited 
sense  which  I  have  given  to  it,  though  strengthened 
by  the  additional  word  revera ;  otherwise,  a  reader 
is  told,  that  if  he  doth  not  perceive  the  justice  of  our 
critic's  remarks,  he  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  mere 
block,  and  totally  void  of  all  perception. 


ODE   III. 

ON  CUPID. 

'TwAS  now  midnight,  the  rain  severe ; 
By  slow  Bootes  roU'd  the  Bear; 
And  human  kind,  with  toil  oppress'd, 
Indulg'd  the  hour  of  balmy  rest. 
When  treach'rous  Love  contriv'd  a  lure,> 
And  struck,  importunate,  my  door. 
Who  knocks  ?  said  I ;  your  hasty  blows 
Disturb'd  my  dreams  and  soft  repose*. 

**  A  harmless  child,"  reply 'd  the  pow'r: 
"  (Then  fear  no  guile,  though  late  the  hour) 


*  Sx*''"?]  ^^^'  B^^'^^s  has  changed  the  origi- 
nal here,  and,  instead  of  <7;^»a»$,  reads  cx^ffoc^,  but 
without  any  necessity  ,  for  sometimes  the  future  is 
used  instead  of  past  time  by  poetical  licence.  See 
examples  in  Pauw. 


10 

*•  Who,  tir'd  and  wet,  has  lost  the  road, 
**  And  hopes  reliei  in  your  abode." 

The  story  mov'd :  I  rose  in  haste, 
Prepar'd  my  lamp,  and  saw  my  guest. 
Wing'd  was  the  boy,  and  arms  he  wore. 
Behind  him  shafts,  a  bow  before. 
Close  to  the  fire  1  made  him  stand. 
There  warm'd  in  mine  each  little  hand, 
Press'd  floods  of  water  from  his  hair*. 
And  try'd  assiduous  ev'ry  care. 

When,  thus  employ'd,  my  friendly  part 
Had  eas'd  the  cold,  and  cheer'd  his  heart, 
**  I  fear,"  said  he,   **  the  show'ry  sky 
•*  Has  spoil'd  my  bow-string:  let  me  try." 

*  vyfov  v^up]  the  wet  iiater.  It  was  not  unusual 
to  increase  an  idea  by  the  addition  of  tautologous 
epithets.  Thus  Pindar,  ^ffffo?  ai^ofjuvov  wpi'^liqui- 
da  nat  tibi  linter  aqua.  Tibull.— and  in  the  eastern 
style,  we  read  of  a  Jiaming  flame,  and  of  a  burning, 
fiery  fu)'n(ice , 


11 

Quick  then  his  deadly  bow  he  drew, 
Discharg'd,    and    pierc'd    me    through   and 

through*. 
Away  now  flits  the  wily  boy, 
And,  titt'ring,  cries,    "  Pray,  wish  me  joy  ;- 
**  The  bow,  unhurt,  can  show'rs  endure : 
"  Perhaps  your  heart  is  less  secure  t." 

*  mctf]  pierced  my  liver.  Some  authors  con- 
sidered the  liver,  and  others  the  heart,  as  the  seat  of 
love  :  our  poet  here  makes  those  bowels  sympathe- 
tic j  for,  when  his  liver  is  wounded,  his  heart  is  sup- 
posed immediately  to  be  affected. 

f  That  Cupid  was  fond  of  mischief,  a  xaxojtAa- 
;^avo$,  is  the  complaint  of  every  poet.  If  he  pre- 
tends to  be  in  distress,  it  is  for  some  unlucky  de- 
sign. 

K  jjir  WOT  »J>35  xXaw>T«,  <pvha<7fftOy  ,a»j  <ri  w^awjCJi.    Mosc, 

And  though  he  weeps,  beware!  he  means  deceit. 


12 


13 


ODE  IV. 

ON   HIMSELF, 

Where  flourish  young  myrtles  the  lotos  among, 
I  wish  for  a  bowl,  and  to  stretch  me  along. 
Bid  Love  with  papyrus  his  tunic  confine*, 
Attend  my  commands,  and  administer  wine. 

*  Ustnivfto]  Every  one  has  heard  of  this  reed, 
and  that  it  served  the  old  Eg}^ptians  for  many  diffe- 
rent uses.  The  chest,  in  which  Moses  was  discovered 
floating  on  the  Nile,  is  called  by  the  LXX  a  chest 
of  papyrus.  Pauw  thinks,  and  not  irrationally,  that 
this  ode  was  the  work  of  some  Egj'ptian  poet ;  it  is 
not  probable  that  a  Grecian  would  have  thought  of 
a  plant  which  never  was  used  in  Greece.  I  must 
request  the  reader  to  pardon  my  intruding  here  a 
passage  from  floracc,  which  has  no  further  con- 
nexion with  the  line  before  us,  than  as  both  of  them 
point  at  dress. 

Jd  tnuve  dcscendet  votes  tutis^  et  sihi parcet, 

CorUractusque  le^et. 
The  commentator  in  usum  Delphinl  understands 
the  poet  as  if  he  intended  to  spend  a  winter  with 


1 


"-^-a 


ir-i 


The  Fates  have  decreed  us  a  poor  little  span; 
And  quick  passes  over  the  date  of  a  man. 
Then  why  should  libations  be  scattered  and  lost? 
Why  unguents  and  liquor  bestow'd  on  a  ghost? 

Me,  rather  let  me,  of  your  bounty  have  part: 
Give  wreaths  for  my  head,  and  a  fair  to  my  heart. 


little  recourse  to  books.  But  was  it  probable,  was  it 
possible  for  a  single  man,  a  man  of  learning,  and 
fond  of  exemplar ta  Grceca,  to  make  such  a  resolution } 
how  could  he  pass  the  long,  tedious  nights  away  ? 
During  summer  he  might  amuse  himself,  at  times, 
in  his  farm  with  little  wholesome  and  agreeable  oc- 
cupations 5  he  might  give  his  neighbours  an  op- 
portunity of  smiling  at  him,  videnies  saxa  moventem; 
but  when  alone,  from  home,  and  in  winter,  that  he 
should  resolve  to  be  idle,  is  hardly  credible.  To  lead 
such  a  life,  would  be  to  punish,  not  par  cere  sibi; 
which  means,  I  suppose,  that  he  would  avoid  all 
troublesome  business.  For  these  reasons  I  do  not 
understand  contractus  adverbially,  but  in  its  natural 
import,  and  would  make  it  agree  with  vales.  "  In 
"  winter,"  says  the  poet,  "  I  will  go  down  to  the 
"  sea-side  5   and  there,  warmly  huddled  up  in  my 


14 


15 


With  pleasure  my  soul,  little  Cupid,  shall  glow, 
'Till  call'd,  horrid  call !  to  the  shadows  below. 

*'  cloak,  in  me  teres  atque  rotundus,  I  will  indulge  my- 
"  self  with  reading  some  excellent  Grecian  authors." 
This,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  true  meaning  of  Horace; 
and  it  strikes  me  as  a  very  natural  picture. 


iU 


$ 


'I.    "*  ' 


V^ 


h 


ODE  V. 

ON    THE    ROSE. 

Steep  the  rose  in  gen'rous  wine! 
Cupid  loves  the  scent  divine. 
Crown'd  with  roses  sit,  and  smiling* 
Quaff,  invidious  time  beguiling. 

(a)  KpoTa<poK7»»]    crown'd  with  roses.      Chaplets 
were  made  of  roses,  lilies,  myrtle,  violets,  and  other 
plants,  according  to  the  different  fancies  of  the 
guests.  It  was  imagined  that,  partly  by  the  flowers, 
and  partly  by  the  constriction  made  by  the  chaplet, 
drunkenness  might  be  prevented,  or  the  disagree- 
able consequence  much  allayed.    I  do  not  conceive, 
that,  used  in  this  manner,  the  bare  effluvia  could 
have  any  effect,  though  some  of  them  were  of  a 
medicinal  nature.     Hippocrates  indeed  prescribes 
rose-leaves   (but  first  made  into  a'  cataplasm  with 
vinegar)  as  a  good  topical  application  for  a  head- 
ach.  That  may  be  rational  j  yet  the  strong  scent  of 
flowers  in  general  hurts  the  nerves.    I  knew  a  lady, 
whose  practice  was,  to  crowd  the  room  she  com- 


16 

Happy  flow'r  !  supremely  bright ! 
Nature's  care,  and  Spring's  delight ! 

Roses  charm  the  world  above  ; 
Roses  form  the  wreath  of  Love ; 
O'er  his  temples  these  he  places, 
Sporting  with  the  gentle  Graces  *. 

Crown  me  now  at  Bacchus'  fane  +  ! 
"  There  I'll  touch  an  am'rous  strain, 

monly  used  with  pots  of  flowers  hung  up  on  every 
side  :  but  she  found  the  ill  effects  of  so  doing,  and, 
by  the  advice  of  her  physician,  was  obliged  to  throw 
all  away.  Gems  too,  not  better  than  gravel  in  reali- 
ty, were  thought  to  cure  as  many  disorders  as  any 
of  the  quack-medicines  recommended  by  His  Ma- 
jesty's patents. 

*  X*fiTicr<7»]  iiith  the  Grace*— companions  very 
properly  chosen  for  the  God  of  Love,  since  every 
qualification  which  can  adorn  a  woman  is  ascribed 
to  those  divinities. 

f  Iuxok]  shrine,  properly  a  pen  for  sheep,  but 
applied  to  a  temple,  because  the  chief  deity  stood 
m  the  middle  of  it,  defended  by  rails  on  every 
fide.  Fab. 


17 

Dress'd  in  roses  play,  and  there 
Lightly  gambol  with  a  fair  *. 

*  Ba6yjtoXw8]  deep-breasted — a  most  disagreeable 
image !  As  explained  by  Hesychius,  it  is  suitable  only 
to  masculine  women  ;  but  Eustathius  exculpates 
Homer,  from  whom  this  epithet  is  borrowed,  if  the 
great  bard  applies  it  to  the  Trojan  women  only, 
and  never  to  the  Grecian  fair.  NsoQrXo?,  the  direct 
opposite  to  B«6yKoX»roj,  should  be  said  of  a  young 
girl,  as  in  the  forty-second  Ode.  I  will  now  tran- 
scribe the  opinions  of  two  learned  critics  on  the  lat- 
ter word,  and  leave  them  to  the  reader,  without 
making  any  remark.  Innuit,  hoc  epitheto,  se  non 
ita  facile  a/nasse  frustilla  ilia  mulierum,  quce  pumila: 
cum  sinty  pupa  potius,  quam  plenum  etjustum  Veneris 
a^PIAu  haberi  debent.  Faber. — Optitne  hac  vox  defe^ 
minis  usurpatur,  quarum  in  sinus  oculi  et  manus  ama- 
torum  Solent  descendere.  Barnes. 


S<!V 


18 


ODE    VI. 

A  COMUS,  OR  BANjIUET. 

Emb  EL  lish'd  with  roses,  how  pleasant  to  quaff! 
With  cheerful  companions  how  happy  we  laugh! 
Behold  where  a  beauty,  the  bliss  to  enhance, 
With  ivy-twin'd  thyrses  commences  a  dance* ! 
And  hark,  the  fair  boy !  on  a  pectis  he  plays, 
Enliv'ning  the  tone  with  his  delicate  lays. 

*  BapC»T«]  The  Latins  say  ad  barbitum,  but 
the  Grecians  sub  bcirbito  saltare.  Fab.  The  same 
critic  thinks  that  Anacreon  is  here  describing  a  real 
dance,  in  which  Bacchua,  Cupid,  and  Venus,  were 
personated  by  two  boys  and  a  girl^  who  went,  with 
songs  and  merriment,  to  the  temple  of  Comus.  But 
probably  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  fanciful  compo- 
sition. 

Ibid.]  Mr.  Barnes,  in  his  text,  has  Cpvorra?.  Ego, 
says  he,  hanc  vocem  primus  restituo,  miratus  nemineni 
ante  me  id  fecisse,  cum  ^pe^orra?  fuerit  vox  omnibus 
suspecta.     He  adds,  si  liceret  per  versum,  legaetn 


«■*-- 

v-  - 

-.','.0:  ; 


V 


19 

To  finish  our  revel,  the  comfort  of  years  *, 
See  Love,  with  his  mother  and  Bacchus,  ap- 
pears t. 

xarxffKioiffi,     I   prefer  the  edition  of  Stephanus  in 
both   cases}    for,  when  ivy-branches   are   twined 
about  a  thyrsus,  and  the  leaves  agitated  in  dancing, 
I  think  that  it  may  very  properly  be  called  a  thyr- 
sus with  rustling  leaves.     Pauw  says,  in  his  usual 
manner,  inepiissinui  (conjectura)  est  ilia  Barnesii; 
nam,  mihi  credas,  nihil  alienius  ab  ingeniopoet(Z,  vel 
modice  eruditi.     Sed  criticus  ilk  ineptiebat,  nee  ullum 
hnbuit  judicii  usum.     Though  I  do  not  approve  of 
the  change  which  Mr.  Barnes  would  make,  if  the 
metre  allowed  it,  yet  I  cannot  think  it  so  very  ab- 
surd as  to  merit  this  insolent  treatment. 

*  Ew^jpaToj-  yiga»o»5]  Vauw  thinks  this  Ode  could 
not  have  been  written  by  Anacreon  j  which  possi- 
bly may  be  true,  but  doubtless  not  for  the  reason 
which  our  great  critic  assigas.— /n^p^ww  epithetum, 
says  he :  nam  comissatio  non  solet  esse  vulgo  pergrata 
senibus.^2ui  hcccscripslt,  Anacreontefn  imitatusfuit; 
et  ad  indoltm  ejus  attendens,  de  cunctis  senibus  dixit 
ymitu<;,  quod  de  eo,  et  paucis  similibus,  dicendum  fu- 
isset  u^KUi.  i.  e.  Because  this  ode  expresses  the 
true  spirit  or  indoles  of  Anacreon,  Amicreon  could 


50 


not  be  the  author.  An  excellent  reason  !  I  cannot 
say  from  experience,  whether  old  men  are,  or  are 
not,  in  general,  fond  of  a  banquet ;  but  this  is  clear, 
old  Nestor  dissents  from  M.  Pauw ;  for,  says  the 
former  to  Agamemnon,  l^tv  lout  a,  yt^ai*,for  you  have 
plenty  of  wine  and  all  thimrs  Jit  for  a  feast. 

+  Efw?  ji'ffvo'oxarrni]  golden  hair.  This  epithet, 
as  well  as  |a>0ojto^5,  auriconius,flavicoinus,  and  such 
like,  mean  what  we  term  flaxen  hair.  Ha»9o?  and 
flavus  are  commonly  said  of  corn.  I  have  seen  a 
masterly  picture  of  Venus  with  fiery  hair,  though 
locks,  truly  red,  were  as  disagreeable  to  ancient,  as 
they  are  to  modem  taste.  Theocritus,  describing 
two  homely  swains,  says 


0  |u.iv  avruf 


Ht/^^?,  0  ^  rj^iVEMio; 


Half-bearded  one,  the  other  Jieiy-fiaird. 
and  in  Martial,  Crine  ruber  is  the  sign  of  a  rogue. 
Flaxen  hair  is  very  properly  given  to  Cupid,  as  a 
child  ',    for  most  adults,  whom  we  %ee  with  brown, 
in  their  childhood  had  flaxen  hair. 


91 


ODE    VII. 

ON  CUPID. 

Cupid,  who  limp'd,  his  end  to  gain. 
Supported  on  a  purple  cane  *, 

*  "teuLtt^m  fAi  ga^^w]  Pauw  seems  here  to  be  more 
than  commonly  unfortunate  in  his  observations. 
Hand  dubie,  says  he,  intelligendus  estftoris  hyacin- 
ihi  scapus  :  nam,  quod  de  coloris  hyacinthini  sceptro 
narrant  interpreUs,  ineptum  videtur  mihi.  Cur,  qua' 
so,  sceptrum  Cupidinis  eo  colore  infectmn  ?  cur  natu- 
mlisligni  color  mutatus?  Nugce,Nug(£. — 'stuicquid 
de  nativo  colore  mutato,  et  inducto  colore  hyacinthino, 
vlri  eruditi  perhibent,  non  sit  unius  assis.     Nos  recte 

et  vere, Why  should  the  wand  of  Cupid  be  made  a 

beautiful  colour  ?  for  the  same  reason,  I  suppose, 
that  we  stain  and  varnish  our  modern  walking- 
sticks,^The  critic  proceeds— Am7*c  scapum  svmsit, 
ut  sibi  Usui  esset,  eoque  ad  sequendum  adegit  miserum. 
— How  or  whence  it  may  be  collected,  that  our 
bard  was  to  follow,  and  Cupid  to  lead  the  way,  I 
cannot  tell  -,  nor  do  I  conceive  that  the  small  stalk 
•f  a  small  flower  could  be  a  fit  instrument  for  com- 
pulsion. 


522 

Who  slowly  mov'd  with  tott'ring  pace*, 
Defy'd  me  once  to  run  a  race.  % 

While  o'er  the  rocks  and  tumbling  floods, 
Deep  hideous  vales,  and  thorny  woods. 
With  eager  haste  I  ran,  I  flew. 
Some  lurking  serpent  pierc 'd  me  through  f . 

*  Xd^trv^  ^ah^tml  ^diking  with  dificulti/.  Mr. 
Barnes  has  Qat^t^otr  instead  of  Qa^ut.  I  must 
confess  that  he  is  too  guilty  of  deceiving  a  reader 
by  substituting  words  of  his  own  choice  in  place  of 
the  original  text.  Bo^tf^rr',  which  he  takes  from 
Heimius,  makes  the  poet  struggle  against  Cupid  j 
whereas  he  seems  to  undertake  the  race  instantly, 
and  without  any  compulsion.  If  I  guess  rightly  at 
the  scope  of  this  ode,  the  reading  of  Ileinsius  en- 
tirely spoils  the  whole.  A  critic  may  put  what 
conjectures  he  pleases  into  his  notes  5  but  the  ori- 
ginal should  not  be  corrupted. 

t  T^p^aoTflt  wi»^«  v^?]  a  serpent  wounded  me.  I 
wish  that  I  could  find  some  authority  for  reading 
T^;^ao»6*  0  «i»gi» :  for  then  Cupid  would  be  the  ser- 
pent^ and  his  desire  to  run,  a  scheme  to  wound  the 
{X)et,  while  busied  and  off  his  guard.  This  would, 
at  least,  be  characteristical,  and  agreeable  to  several 


1-;??? 


1 


53 


High bounc'd my  flutt'ring heart:  I  swoon  d»< 
And  half  expir'd  ;  so  great  the  wound. 

odes.  But  I  will  always  object  against  such  liber- 
ties as  are  taken  by  some  critics  ;  and  have  trans- 
lated the  passage  as  it  is  found  in  the  edition  of 
StepJuinus;  to  explain  which,  we  may  suppose  that 
the  malicious  deity  seduced  the  bard  into  places  so 
infested  by  serpents,  that  he  knew  it  was  almost 
impossible  for  him  to  escape. 

*  Kg»J.„  h  ^.ro?  ax^i  A«C«»«]  w/j/  heart  leaped  up 
to  my  nose.  This  phrase  is,  at  least,  as  old  as  Ho- 
mer ;  and  among  us,  my  li^art  leaped  up  to  my  viouth, 
which  we  say  often,  is  a  literal  version  of  that  emi- 

nent  poet. 

Tr  ^tfJ^o^  avrn 

As  I  do  not  remember  this  thought  to  have  been 
taken  notice  of  by  any  commentator,  perhaps  an  ^.t- 
tempt  to  explain  the  cause  of  it  may  not  be  unac- 
ceptable to  the  reader.     When  a  person  is  sudden- 
ly affected  by  a  wound  or  terror,  the  blood  runs  to 
the  heart  in  a  copious  stream  :  this  is  manifested 
by  a  consequent  paleness  of  the  cheeks  j  but  the 
muscle  not  being  able  to  contain  it,  a  wave  is  re- 
pelled, by  the  systole,  in  the  vein,  by  anatomisti 
called  the  Vena  cava  descaidais,  which  rising  above 


24 


# 


Then  nodded  Love  his  treach'rous  head*. 
Exulting,  clapp'd  his  wings,  and  said  : 

the  heart  at  its  junction  with  it,  the  pulsation  felt, 
is  supposed  to  be  in  the  heart,  though,  in  reality 
made  against  the  vein. 

Mtrtnra  cuuv,  airahot^  wTigoi<r»»]  inoving,  or  slui" 
king  (his  or  my)  head  with  soft  wings.  The  learned 
Hen.  Steph.  and  Mr.  Barnes  translate  this  passage  as 
if  Cupid  meant  to  restore  the  bard  by  gently  fan- 
ning him  with  his  wings.  Faber,  on  the  contrary, 
supposes  the  deity  to  be  angry ;  and  makes  him 
ask  the  poet,  "  Do  you  know  why  you  suffer  thus  ? 
It  is  because  you  are  disobedient  to  me."  But 
wherein  lies  the  disobedience,  I  see  not ;  for,  when 
desired  to  run,  he  obeys  without  any  reluctance. 

A  nod,  or  motion  of  the  head,  expresses  very  dif- 
ferent ends  ;  sometimes  it  marks  anger,  sometimes 
it  is  a  note  of  assent  j  and  at  other  times  it  is  made 
with  ii  jocular  pleasure.  Thus,  in  Bion,  a  boy 
who  thought  Cupid  was  a  bird,  and  attempted  to 
catch  him  with  traps,  complained  to  an  old  shepherd 
that  he  could  not  secure  his  prey  5  the  shepherd 


shook  his  head. 


Aad  smiling,  thus  repIyM 


/i 


25 


1 1 


J 


•5       C 


"  No  longer  vaunt  of  strong  desire  : 
"  You  cannot  bear  the  am'rous  fire." 

In  this  sense  I  understand  the  poet,  conceiving  that 
Cupid  nods  his  head,  and  flutters  or  claps  his  wings 
with  exultation,  like  one  of  our  cocks  before  he 
crows.     But  as  at  least  a  line  of  the  original,  which 
should  here  follow,  is  lost,  the  cntics  have  a  fair 
opportunity  of  exerting  their  various  fancies.  Pauiv 
is  clear  that  the  whole  ode  is  allegorical,  and  de- 
notes aimntan  in  difficili  amorc  hcerentan,  ut  vel  unus 
versiculus   postremiis   aptrte  d^clurat.        How   the 
words,/or3^ow  cannot  love,  prove  this  singular  whim, 
I  submit  to  the  reader.     Indeed  his  explanation  of 
the  allegory  is  so  dull  and  dark,  in  my  apprehension,, 
as  to  stand  in  much  need  of  an  explanation.     The 
version  of  Hen.  Steph.  enro  mnare  discc,  is  so  un- 
like the  Greek,  that,  between  it  and  the  preceding 
Ime,   I  cannot  even  feign  any  connexion.     For  my 
part,  I  apprehend  that  the  whole  is  a  scheme  of 
Cupid,  and  would  supply  the  deficient  line  some- 
what to  the  following  purpose.     "  Hah,  friend  ! 
"  you  boast  to  be  in  love  with  thousands  of  beau- 
"  ties  (Ode  XXXIl.)— you  threaten  to  bum  me, 
''  if  I  do    not    supply  you   with    amorous    flame 
"  (Ode  X.)— but  since  you  are  unable  to  bear  the 
y  small  tooth  of  a  serpent,  you  are  plainly  a  mere 

c 


'2b 


^7 


ODE    VIII. 

Oy  HIS   DREAM. 

Asleep  on  tap'stry,  stretch'd  at  case*, 
(For  gen'rous  wine  all  pain  allays) 

'^  boaster,  and  cannot  endure  the  pangs  of  love." 
(Compare  Ode  XL.  with  this.) 

*  'AX*flro^vgoK]  It  is  extremely  difficult  to  know, 
with  precision,  one  colour  from  another;  such  a 
confusion  occurs  among  ancient  writers.  Ilt/'icinth, 
mentioned  in  the  former  Ode,  is  said  by  Jcrom  to 
be  ocean -green ;  by  Ambrose  sky -colour,  like  the 
sapphire ;  by  Virir/l,  red  ;  and  by  Ovid,  the  colour 
of  silver.  'A^»«o?<?t^?,  named  also  aXy^t?,  I  sup- 
pose to  be  the  QaXafftrnm  of  Jipipluimiia ;  but  as  nei- 
ther this  word  nor  aXs^K  has  any  relation  to  pur- 
ple, I  suspect  that  xo^^v^oq  is  an  epithet  only,  not  a 
colour :  for  so  it  is  used,  when  not  compounded, 
by  almost  every  Greek  and  Latin  poet  j  in  this 
sense,  i^»1r•^^;  should  be  rendered,  a  beautifu] 
shining  green.  Indeed  it  would  require  the  wealth 
of  a  monarch  to  purchase  tapestry  or  bed-cloaths  of 
a  Tyrian  colour;  the  necessary  material  was  so  ex- 
tremely dear.' 


^:^^■ 


■t 


k.;f» 


-«■   ^&S??lv.- 


Methought  I  join'd  some  lovely  fair, 
And  ran  and  toy'd  as  light  as  air; 
While  youths,  like  Bacchus  *,  gib'd  to  see 
The  sprightly  virgins  play  with  me. 
But,  when  I  meant  to  gain  a  kiss. 
Retiring  sleep  denyM  the  bliss ; 
And  lonesome  now,  and  dark  the  scene. — 
I  wish'd  and  strove  to  dream  again. 

*  'A^raXwTigo*  Ai;a»»]  Bacchus  and  ApoUo  were 
represented  as  the  most  beautiful  persons  among 
the  gods. 


-•Jfj' 


28 


29 


ODE    IX. 

ON  A  DOVE. 

Stop,  my  beauteous  dove,  and  pray 

Tell  me  whence  your  airy  way  ? 

Why  do  all  your  little  plumes 

Send  a  gale  of  rich  perfumes  ? 

Who's  your  lord,  and  where  you  dwell  *, 

Lovely  stranger,  stay  and  tell. 

The  description  of  her  happiness  which  the  hird 
gives,  has  a  more  pleasing  effect  than  would  a  stu- 
died and  flourishing  encomium  by  the  poet.  In 
this  respect,  I  prefer  the  Dote  of  Anacreon  to  the 
Sparrcnv  of  Catullus,  and  to  MartiaVs  hsa .  Faber 
says,  that  not  any  mortal,  but  the  Muses  and  Graces 
conspired  to  form  this  elegant  composition.  He 
may,  with  my  leave,  employ  as  many  goddesses  as 
he  thinks  fit,  provided  always,  that  a  goddess  of 
paiming  is  not  made  one  of  the  company. 

*  T*;  iar»  coi  j  fjn\n  ^«]    This  line  is  written  as 
differently  as  there  are  different  critics.     I  shall  not 


;    # 


DOVE. 

Me  the  Teian  bid  with  care 
Search  and  find  his  idol-fair  *, 
Her,  whose  beauty's  early  pride 
Conquers  all  the  sex  beside. 

Venus,  for  an  ode  he  gave  hert, 
Much  delighted  with  the  favour, 
Bid  me,  since  you  long  to  know  it. 
Serve  obsequiously  the  poet. 

enter  into  a  dispute,  which  (without  the  discovery 
of  some  correct  mTnnscript)  may  be  never  conclu- 
ded ;  but  ha^'e  used  the  edition  of  Baimes,  supposing 
however,  that,  in  his  extensive  reading  of  Greek 
authors,  he  met  such  a  phrase  as  rt;  errn  «7&i,  with 
^tj'Tronnq  understood  3  for  I  conf'v  ss  that,  in  the 
course  of  my  reading,  I  never  saw  any  thing  like  it, 

•  Ba&yX^o»]  In  all  places,  where  this  name  oc- 
curs, I  have  substituted  t^uuun  instead  of  it,  for  ob- 
vious reasons. 

t  AaCara  (xik^ov  ii^io>]  a  small  hynm.  Anacreon, 
observe  the  critics,  was  a  writer  of  Odes,  and  not  of 
Hymns ;  but  the  difference,  in  my  opinion,  is  not  so 


30 


31 


Now  his  fair  one  I  pursue, 
Charg'd  to  give  this  billet-doux. 

Once  he  told  me — "  Dove,"  said  he, 
**  Soon  I  mean  to  set  you  free." — 
But,  so  easy  now  my  case, 
Should  I  quit  the  happy  place  ? 
Should  I  range  the  hill  and  wood. 
Seeking  mean  and  scanty  food  ? 
Now  securely  I  may  stand. 
Crumbs  receiving  from  his  hand  ; 
Or,  if  thirsty,  go  and  sup 
Wine  delicious  from  his  cup. 
Cheer'd  with  this,  I  play  and  bound*. 
Nimbly  dancing  on  the  ground ; 

great  as  to  prevent  a  poet  from  using  them,  for  the 
sake  of  variety,  as  synonymous  terms. 

*  llMaa  y  at  x<^^ivcv']  Grdca  laborant  levitt  r,  says 
Pauw ;  for  the  word  should  be  written  yo^ivu. 
A-gainst  this  I  have  not  any  objection  j  and  Stq)h, 


Then  caress  the  bard,  and  spread 
Both  my  pinions  o'er  his  head ; 

translates  it  salio.  Mr.  Pope,  speaking  of  poets  and 
critics,  observes,  ihat 


-less  dang'rous  is  th'  offence 


To  tire  our  patience  than  misguide  our  sease. 

I  will  avoid  the  greater  offence,  to  the  best  of  my 
judgement,  by  acknowledging,  that  a  bird  drunk 
and  dancing  is  the  most  ridiculous  and  preposteroua 
thought  which  appears  among  all  the  Grecian  poets. 
The  writer  was  infamously  attached  to  liquor,  who 
supposes  that  even  a  bird  could  not  be  happy  with- 
out it.     L/et  a  painter  attempt  such  an  image  j  and 
if  he  puts  the  bird  out  of  its  natural,  easy  posture, 
it  will  appear  to  a  spectator  as  just  shot,  or  other- 
wise dying  in  strong  convulsions.     I  cannot  pass 
unnoticed  the  judgement  of  self-praising,  abusive, 
and  insolent  M.  Pauw.    Having  first  told  us  that 
Barnes  nares  habebat  obesas,  he  proceeds — venuste 
indicat,    columbat/h"Saltare  velle,    et  saltare  ttiam 
posse,  cum  iinum'-'uvide  exhauscrat;  illud  ad  sal- 
tandum  excitabat  molhculam ;    absque  eo,  vix  saltare 
pottrat,  aut  saltare  cupiebat.    Nihil  suavius.     What 
a  poetical  painter  is  Pauw ! 


32 

Last,  to  quiet  sleep  retire. 
Perching  on  the  very  lyre. 
Thus  I  told — a  prattling  jay — 
All  my  case — now  go  my  way*. 

*  AwixSi]  Such  is  the  judgement  of  Fawn;,  that 
he  speaks  with  as  much  diffidence  when  right,  as 
with  insolence  when  plainly  wrong  j  ntscio  an  satis 
conveniens  sit  illud  airiy.^t.  This  mscio  may  be 
true  J  fallor,  aiit  po'tta  scripsit  airth^u ;  nescio  quid 
alii  dicturi  sint ;  this  nescio  is  false  3  for  he  well 
knew  that  H.  Steph.  had  rendered  the  word,  valeto. 
Every  one  sees  that  awixGi  undoubtedly  must  be 
wrong  ;  for  the  enquirer,  for  aught  appears  to  the 
contrar)',  was  standing  idle,  whereas  the  dove  was 
hastening  on  her  message,  and  therefore  should  say, 
/  tnust  be  gone ;  otherwise  the  Ode  does  not  con- 
clude, qualis  ab  inccsjpto  ^rocesserai  ;  nee  sibi  constat. 


33 


■  A^*''  •- 


^ 


ODE    X. 

ON  A  WAXEN  IMAGE  OF  CUFID, 

A  Youth,  as  once  it  so  befell, 

Propos'd  a  waxen  Love  to  sell. 

I  quickly  went,  and  said,  "  My  boy, 

**  What  price  will  buy  that  curious  toy*?" 

The  youth  reply'd,  in  Doric  phrase t, 

**  Why,  master,  take  it  as  you  please; 

*  Exwr^»a>/xai  <ro»]  The  Grecians  say  wgtao-Sat  th-*,  as 
well  as  TT^iaff^ai  'aa^ot,  th*©;.  Fab. 

t  ^u^ial^uii]  speaking  in  the  Doric  dialect.  This 
dialect,  which  is  nearly  allied  to  the  iEolic,  was 
constantly  used  by  Theocritus ^  and  thought  to  be 
particularly  well  suited  to  pastoral  poetry  ;  not  that 
it  was  merum  rus,  but  on  account  of  its  natural,  un- 
affected simplicity  3  for  we  find  it  sometimes  used 
by  the  most  elegant  poets.  Virgil  could  not  imi- 
tate his  master  in  this  particular  3  for  the  Latin  has 
not  a  variety  of  dialects,  like  the  Greek. 

c  5 


34 

••  For,  sure,  to  act  the  friendly  part, 
**  I  practise  not  the  carving  art, 
•*  Nor  care,  in  troth,  to  spend  an  hour 
**  With  such  an  all-requiring  pow'r." — 
*•  Here  then,  here  take  this  drachm  to  thee, 
**  And  give  the  charming  friend  to  me." 
Now,  Love,  since  you  are  fairly  mine, 
Be  warnM,  and  know  my  fix'd  design. 
Or  feed  my  breast  with  fond  desire*, 
Or  you  shall  melt,  and  feed  the  fire. 

*  Ilw^cToir]  Puuiv  thinks  that  Anacreon  was  not 
the  author  of  this  little  tale,  but  indeed  for  a  pre- 
posterous reason  :  in  his  opinion^  the  poet  was  not 
such  a  fool  as  to  believe  that  a  bit  of  wax  could 
inspire  his  breast  with  love.  "  Fallor,  aut  recen- 
"  tioi'  aliquis  hccc  pepigit.^..—sluid  scilicet  inut- 
*'  guncula  Cupidinis  ctrea  f  eane  faccre  potest  qua 
"  dicurUur  hie  ?  eine  adscriburUur  recte,  qua  in 
"  Cupidineni  vivnm  et  innncrtalem  ccmveniunt  unice  ? 
'*  Nuga,  nujra.  Si  ars  nuigica  accessissci,  speciem 
''  habuisset  cotmneiUum.    Nunc  dcjingendi  arte  sermo 


■'•4' 


■•■* 


;■:•■■?! 


5S 


'*  est"     From  what  part  of  the  Ode  did  he  collect 
this  last  assertion  ?     If  the  folly  of  heathens  indu- 
ced them  to  think  that  honouring  statues  reflected 
honour  on  their  supposed  divinities^  why  should 
they  not  believe  that  insulting  the  same  statues 
might  induce  the  divinities,  through  fear  of  being 
deserted,  to  grant  a  request  ?  Such  a  dread,  it  seems 
operated  on  the  heathenish  queen  of  heaven. 
^"^—quisquarn  numtiiJunonis  adoret?  &c.  Virgil. 
Pan  is  threatened  in  Theocritus  with  being  scratch' 
ed,  and  nuide  to  lie  among  nettles.     Hanway  says, 
the   Calmuck  Tartars  in  the  same    manner  treat 
their  idols  j  and  if  Pauw  had  sailed  with  the  Por- 
tuguese, who  call  themselves  Christians,  he  might 
have  understood  the  meaning  of  a  relative  punish- 
ment, «as  well  as  of  a  relathe  worship.     I  do  not 
recollect  any  Greek  or  Latin  poet,  who  speaks  of 
love,  without  using  the  metaphor^ame  ox  fire.     It 
tips  all  the  darts  of  Cupid  j    irv^i  vot¥7»  ^iCawTaM, 
says  Moschus.     Generally  the  name  of  a  person  is 
added  to  fire,  as  7iwus  ignis  Amyntas.  Virg.     But 
Horace  writes  ignis  singly,  as  if  a  fire  and  beauty 
were  synonymous  terms. 

si  non  pulcftrior  ignis 

Accendit  obsessam  Ilion. 
We  follow  Hcnact  exactly,  by  saying,  your  Jlajne, 
his  Jla?fie,  &c. 


36 


ODE   XI. 

ON  HIMSELF. 

The  women  maliciously  gibe  me,  and  cry, 
"  Anacreon,  thou'rt  old :  'tis  a  jest  to  deny. 
**  Go  look  in  the  glass;  see  how  quickyou  decay: 
"  Your  hair  and  your  forehead  are  wither'd 

away !" — 
Ye  beauties,  what  mischief  old  Time  may  have 

wrought, 
How  prey'd  on  my  head, — never  cost  me  a 

thought. 
But  this  I  can  tell — and  am  sure  'tis  a  truth — 
When  age  has  succeeded  the  vigour  of  youth, 
The  more  we  should  revel,  the  more  we  should 

toy, 
Since  death  near  approaches  to  banish  our  joy. 


37 


ODE    XII. 

ON   THE  SWALLOW. 

Noisy,  chatt'ring  Swallow,  say, 
Shall  I  tear  your  wings  away  ? 
wShall  I  clip  that  little  tongue. 
Whose  incessant,  early  song 
Breaks  my  rest  and  happy  dream. 
Just  when  beauty  is  the  theme  ?  , 

In  regard  to  this  Ode,  and  several  others  of  like 
nature,  we  may  safely  rest  on  the  opinion  of  an 
eminent  critic,  and  say  that 


*olim  lusit  Anacreon. 


HOR. 


■0' 


^'^^aj' 


^ 


38 


ODE   XV. 

ON  GENEROUS  LIVING. 

Uncon  QU  Er'd  by  riches,  my  soul  nor  admires 
Fam'd  Gyges,  nor  aught  of  his  treasure  desires*. 
Untouch'd  by  ambition,  to  envy  unknown, 
I  look  with  contempt  on  the  blaze  of  a  throne. 

To  dress,  to  perfume,  to  be  careless  and  free, 
And  joys  such  as  those,  have  a  relish  for  me. 
Each  moment  I  seise,  and  the  present  possess; 
For  who  can  pretend  at  the  future  to  guess  ? 

While  time  then  allows,  and  the  weather  is 
clear, 
With  glasses  and  dice  ever  cheerful  appear, 

*  Ov  fioi  jixi^H — K.  T.  X.]  leave  not  for  Gyges,  king 
of  Sardis — nor  do  I  envy  kings.  This  tautology  is 
observed  by  every  critic  5  but  if  we  read  with  Bent- 
ley  ra  Tvyy,  and  with  the  V.  M.  fuXo?  instead  of 
^vffo^,  tautologies  are  removed.  The  substance  of 
Paifw^s  long  note  is  in  Barnes. 


"Tf':v:i-  . 
■'■AX 


iHii^ 


■  ..'•^. 


39 

Lest  pallid  disorder,  your  spirits  now  sinking, 
Should  come,  and  cry,  **  Pray,  sir,  have  done 
with  your  drinking*." 

*  Ntf<7o;.]  Sickness.  Quid  »8<ro?,  says  Pauw,  idne 
acconimodum  est  ?—de  morboj  in  his  non  loquuniur 
homines  lascivi,  sed  de  morte,  quia  vitam  tollit.  That 
death  takes  away  life,  will  hardly  be  disputed  :  but 
our  critic  seems  to  have  forgotten  chronic  com- 
plaints, when  he  adds,  post  morhum  ad  voluptates 
redirepoteranl.  The  man  who  has  lost  the  use  of 
every  joint  by  the  painful  gout,  or  is  excruciated  by 
the  gravel,  to  omit  other  disorders,  occasioned  often 
by  a  long  habit  of  ebriety,  can  seldom  return  to 
much  pleasure  again. 


't^i: 


40 


ODE    XVI. 

ON  HIMSELF, 

While  you  Thebaean  wars  relate, 
And  he  proud  Troy's  severer  fate, 
Let  me  attempt  the  tuneful  art, 
And  sing  the  conquest  o'er  my  heart  *. 

No  fleets  equipp'd-in  strong  array. 
Nor  foot,  nor  horse,  have  gain'd  the  day; 
But  foes  uncommon  won  the  prize. 
Who  cast  their  darts  from  beauteous  eyes  t. 

*  AX6>cT«5]  Alluswn  ad  T^»a?  k'Suffiu  Exstat  Try- 
phiodori  poema,  cui  nomen  IX»a  AKuctk;',  et  Petro- 
nius,  ''  sed  video  totum  te  in  ilia  haerere  tabula 
"  quae  Trojae  Halosin  ostendit."  Bames.^Thh 
adoption  of  Greek  into  Latin,  Horace  approves,  as 
follows, 

-^"^mota  factaque  nuper  habebunt  verba  fidem,  si 

Gracofonte  cadant 

T  Aff'  Q^oktat]   I  believe  that  there  are  not  any 
two  figurative  expressions  so  common  as  those  which 


\  m 


.r^-' 


V 


41 


give  darts   to  the  eyes,  and  fire  to  love.     Thus 
Musceus, 


Utt    0^^a?<fJLOiO    Qo>MUt 


*E^Wf  o>v»a$a(y<(,  Ksn  I'm  (p^na^  atd^o;  odiuii. 

The  reason  why  darts  are  thrown  by  the  eyes, 
according  to  Xcnophoiiy  is,  because  iro^iuht  nr^uaKUfftj 
a  much  better  reason  than  we  have  from  Proper- 
tius,  who  says, 

Anteferit  quoniam  tuti  qitam  cemimns  ho'^tem. 
This  implies  that  a  lover  is  wounded  before  he  can 
see  the  object.     The  same  poet  has  almost  literally 
translated  the  beginning  of  this  ode  ; 

€wn  tibi  Cadmece  dkimtur,  Pontice,  Thebce,  &fc. 


42 


ODE    XVII. 

ON  A  SILVER  BOWL. 

Come,  Vulcan,  take  that  silver  ore. 
But  forge  destructive  arms  no  more  ; 

They  much  affright  my  soul*. 
No,  all  your  wond'rous  art  employ, 
To  mould  that  lovely  scene  of  joy, 

A  deep,  capacious  bowl. 

*  Ti  ya^  yLuypt\a\  >taao»;]  What  have  I  to  do  with 
battles?  This  kind  of  phraseolog)''  is  common  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testament,  where  it  never  has 
any  other  sense  than,  what  communication  is  there 
between  particular  persons  ?  Yet  our  universal  his- 
torians translate  t»  J(Ix»»  xat  ao*,  yvKxt  j  tchat  is  that  to 
you  and  to  me  ?  and  the  Rheims  Bible^  still  more  ab- 
surdly gives  us,  what  to  me  and  to  thee  ?  which  even 
Maldonatus  allows  to  be  an  insupportable  version. 
It  is/'  says  he,  *'  a.  pious  interpretation :  but  the 
idiom  of  the  language  cannot  bear  it ;  for  I  find. 


€( 


t< 


M< 


43 

J^or  Pleiads  grave,  nor  heav'nly  signs, 
Nor  stars,  nor  wains,  nor  quaint  designs ; 
But  stretch  the  vine  above  : 

**  by  the  constant  usage  of   Scripture,  that  the 
*'  phrase  signifies,  nihil  huic  cum  alio  esse  com- 
*'  muner   The  Jesuit,   (no  doubt  against  his  will) 
is  most  clearly  right ;  I  say  against  his  will ;  for 
he  proceeds  to  make  false  and  weak  apologies  for 
the  text,  though  obliged  to  confess  that  it  expressed 
a  rebuke  of  the  Virgin,  according  to  all  the  primitive 
fathers  of  the  church.     Our  historians  however  tell 
us,  that  the  words  contain  a  Hebrew  idiom,  and 
refer  us  to  a  parallel  in  Sam.  xix.  22.  and  1  Kings, 
xvii.  18.    It  is  really  astonishing  to  think,  that,  if  a 
reader  will  be  at  the  trouble  of  looking  at  those  pas- 
sages, he  will,  at  first  sight,  perceive,  that  our  cri- 
tics, by  their  translation,  make  palpable  nonsense  of 
them  both.     We  have  the  phrase  in   question  re- 
peated here  three  several  times — What  have  1  to  do 
with  battles  ?  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  Pleiades  ? 
what  with  tlie  constellation  of  Bootes  ?     Will  these 
bear  the  old  exploded  version,  which  our  critical 
historians  have  revived  ?  It  makes  sense  indeed  of 
the  text  for  which  they  propose  it ;  but  it  does  so 
by  mere  accident  only ;  it  does  so,  because  it  hap- 


\ 


44 

Then  show,  in  gold,  my  beauteous  fair*; 
Let  sportive  Bacchus  too  be  there, 
With  ever-conqu'ring  Love. 

pens  to  be  a  reply.  How  would  it  sound  in  any 
other  parts  of  the  Gospel  ?  For  example  ;  when  a 
demoniac  starts  from  the  tombs,  sure  we  cannot 
say  that  he  accosts  our  Lord  with,  "  what  is  tlu.t  to 
*'  you  or  to  me?"  before  one  word  is  spoken  to 
which  the  relative  has  any  relation.  How  often  is 
even  learning  absurdly  misapplied ! 

*  Bar6t;A>.c;]  See  the  note  on  Ole  IX.  The  bard, 
by  representing  his  iairone  in  gold,  places  her  on  a 
level  with  the  other  divinities.  An  old  piiet  has 
so  disposed  his  metals  as  to  give  the  figures  almost 
their  proper  colours,  except  that  Jupiter,  as  chiefs 
is  formed  of  gold. 

A^yv^ton  fAfp  fi).  NsiXa  ^0?,    K.  T.  A. 

In  bras?  the  heifer  shofe  ;  in  silver  roll'd 
A  little  Nile  i  but  Jove  appear'd  in  gold. 


i 
•■»■-. 

&'•■**■ 


45 


ODE    XIX. 


ON  THE  NECESSITY  OF  DRINKING. 

This  fertile  earth  imbibes  the  rain*; 
The  trees  her  moisture  drink  again  f; 

*  *H  yrt  ixsXmvoi]  the  black  earth;  this  epithet  not 
sounding  well  in  English,  I  render  it  fej'tile  ;  and 
indeed  black,  applied  to  earth,  znA  fertile,  are  al- 
most synonymous  terms.  Haodotus,  Plutarch, 
Virgil,  and  many  others,  have  obser\'ed  that  black 
soils  give  a  copious  harvest.  Egypt,  Melambolus, 
and  (as  Plutarch  seems  to  think)  Chania,  are  names 
of  similar  import,  denoting  the  dark  colour  of  that 
country,  which  feeds  Constantinople  at  present,  as 
it  did  ancient  Rome. 

t  n»»»  ^£  ^ni\i  uvrr,v.']  the  trees  drink  her,  (the 
earth.)  Inepialocutio,itiis.c\-dm\s<  Pauw  :  arboresnon 
bibunt  terram,  scd  humorem  in  terra  occlusmn,  quo 
ita  ditantur  solo,  ut  etiam  extra  terram  vivere  et 
luxuriari  possent,  si  humor  ille  larga  copia  suppeteret. 
Res  est  quatn  otnnes  hodie  sciunt;  quure  neque  bonus 


I 


46 


47 


The  swelling  ocean  drinks  the  gales ; 
From  him  the  thirsty  sun  exhales  *; 

poeta,  nequc  bonus  fuit  philosophus,  qui  hctc  scripsit. 
That  a  few  succulent  plants  will  grow  in  water,  is 
known  to  every  person :  but  that  large  forest  trees 
can  thrive  luxuriously  in  the  same  manner,  is  a  new 
discovery,  made  by  M.  Pauw.  Waving,  how- 
ever, this  question,  I  cannot  agree  with  our  critic, 
that  to  drink  the  earth,  is  inepta  locutio ;  nor  will  I, 
on  his  sole  authority,  discard  a  figure  which  has 
been  constantly  made  use  of  by  all  writers,  ancient 
and  modem,  sacred  and  profane.  Who  does  not 
say,  /  drank  a  cup  or  a  glass,  lest  some  mighty 
critic  should  tell  him  that  he  is  a  blockhead,  and 
did  not,  in  reality,  swallow  the  cup  or  glass  ? 
When  the  poet  observes  that  trees  drink  the  earth, 
does  he  not  plainly  consider  the  earth  as  a  cup, 
ill  which  water  undoubtedly  is  contained  ?  Such 
little  cheerful  pieces  as  these  Odes  should  not  be 
treated  with  severity.  Many  of  them,  perhaps, 
were  extempore  compositions.  Every  one  can  be 
a  snarier  ;  but  few  are  judicious  critics.  Rejecting 
all  figures,  is  it  certain  that  great  trees  are  nourished^' 
by  the  pure  element  of  water,  without  some  ad- 
dition of  earth  ?  I  suppose  it  is  not  3  for  w< 
chemically  analysed,    gives  a  residuum,  or  cap^ 


The  moon,  as  thirsty,  copious  streams  f 
Insatiate  drinks  of  solar  beams. 

mortuum,  which  is  nothing  but  earth  effete  j  and 
spring-water,  evaporated,  leaves  a  proportion  of 
earth  j  it  is  therefore  highly  probable,  that  some 
particles  of  it,  so  minute  as  not  to  be  discovered  in 
the  purest  water,  are  taken  up,  with  the  water, 
into  the  pores  of  a  tree. 

*  'HAto?  da.Xaffffoit.']  the  sun  drinks  the  sea.  Lucan 
makes  it  a  question,  whether  spring-tides,  as  we 
call  them,  arc  raised  up  by  the  moon  or  by  the 
sun ;  if  by  the  sun,  that  he  does  it  to  drink  the 
waves. 

an  sidi've  mota  secundo 

Telhj/os  unda  laga:  lunar ibus  icstuet  horis; 
FUuwni'j^er  an  Titan,  ut  alentes  hauriat  undas, 

Jirizai  oceanum. 

f  Tor  'H>»o>  5:£^»)>»3.]  the  moon  drinks  the  sun.  Hoc 
eiiam,  says  the  great  critic,  ineptum  est ;  an  Luna 
hibit  Solcm,  quia  lucern  ab  eo  mutuatur  ?  et  lux 
pro  potu  luiberi  potest  ?  Nugce,  nugce.  Kociamua^ott 
pro  absorberi  swntum  apud  Grdcos,  notaru  hie  inter' 
prctesy  ut  duritiem  mitigerU,  credo  :  sed  quid  illud, 
ubi  de  potu  senno  est,  et  ad  potum  coUimant  singula  ? 
Ut  brcvitcr  dicam,  quod  res  est ;  ineptiit  poeta,  h(sc 
iiapawrcns;  et  indignus  est  cui  patrocinetur  quisquam. 


48 


49 


in  drinking,  then,  since  all  agree, 
What  friend  can  justly  censure  me  ? 

The  surface  of  our  planet  undoubtedly  absorbs  a 
large  portion  of  rays  ;  that  the  moon  does  not,  but 
reflects  all,  like  a  looking-glass,  will  hardly  be 
proved  to  our  satisfaction  by  the  astronomical 
M.  Pauw.  And  may  not  absorbing  be  called 
drinking,  without  any  great  violence  to  poetical 
licence  ? 

There  is  such  a  large  number  of  odes  on  drink- 
ing, and  such  a  disgusting  sameness  runs  through 
all,  that  I  have  omitted  the  majority  of  them.  I 
shall,  however,  take  notice  of  any  phrase  in  those 
omitted,  which  appears  to  require  some  animad- 
version. 


-"^i 


ODE   XX. 

ON   HIS    MISTRESS. 

Old  Tantalus'  daughter,  give  credit  to  Fame*, 
Was  chang'd  from  a  nymph,  and  a  statue  be- 
came ; 
And  Procne,  her  form  of  a  beauty  resign'd, 
Flies  up,  in  a  swallow,  as  quick  as  the  wind. 

This  Ode  has  been  imitated  by  a  cloud  of  poc'.s, 
and  almost  in  every  language. 

A  QoyiQivffx  fxt:>Affaot,  y.on  e?  Teo»  atrT^on  wo»/xa».  Theoc. 
O  utinam  subito  fieri  niea  miina'a  possim.       Ovid. 

O  were  I  made,  by  some  transforming  pow'r. 

The  captive  bird  that  sings  within  thy  bow'r  !  Pope. 

*  'H  Ta>TaXy, X.  t.  X.]  HcreiWithas  discovered 
two  eminent  blunders.  Kou  (quadrat  hie  Niobes  ex- 
eniplum ;  nam  ea  formam  non  mutavit. — Si  intntem 
habuisset  odarii  auctory  Pr-jtewn  ct  Periclymenuju  hie 
debuisset  ccmimemorare,-'sic  a  viris  duxisstt  extmplumy 
non  a  muUerculis,  ut  nunc  satis  insulse  facit.     Quart 

D 


50 


May  1  be  a  mirror,  my  fairest  to  please ; 
That  full  on  my  bosom  you  ever  should  gaze* ; 
Or  let  me  transform'd  in  a  tunic  appear, 
Your  waist  to  encircle,  your  breast  to  be  near. 

hie  statim  in  principio  duplex  est  lyrici  minus  eruditi 
peccatum.  But  a  change  was  made  from  rational 
to  irrational  nature,  which  is  enough  for  the  poeti- 
cal purpose.  Beside,  the  gallant  bard's  imagination 
was  so  monopolised  by  the  fair,  that  he  could  not 
even  think  of  a  man. 

*  "Ow*;?  «!»■]  For  ever  look  at  me :   and  of  the 
gown  it  is  said  afterward,  that  you  may  ever  wear  me. 
On  which  Fauiv  remarks,  that  nimium  est  an  de  spe- 
cula ;  de  tunica  moxfrugalius  sequitur — ita  solent  qui 
verba  qvctnint — ut  versus  oppleant.     This,  in  my 
opinion,  if  considered  as  a  critical  curiosity,  can  be 
scarcely  equalled  :    such  an  extraordinary,  such  a 
stare-making  comment,  I  am  satisfied  that  Vauw 
could  not  find  in  Mr.  Barnes. — Our  poet  wishes  to 
be  his  fair  one's  glass,  that  she  may /or  ever  look  at 
him — "  saying  for  every'  replies  Pauw,  *'  is  say- 
ing too  much  of  the  glass."— A  kind  hint  to  his 
reader !  lest  he  should  imagine  that  a  beauty  stares 
in  her  glass,  when  fast  asleep — *'  But  more  fruga- 
lity appears  with  regard  to  the  gown." — How  so  ? 


il 


As  unguents  or  water,  I'd  visit  my  girl*, 
Or  hang  on  your  neck  in  the  shape  of  a  pearl ; 


Is  not  eternity  given  to  both  ?  I  presume  the  reason 
is,  because,  when  the  lady  dressed  herself  in  the 
morning,  she  kept  on  the  gown  unlil  she  retired  to 
bed ;  whereas  she  could  not  conveniently  hold  the 
glass  before  her,  while  eating,  drinking,  doing 
some  family-business,  or  walking  al)out  the  streets; 
the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  our  bard  has 
wasted  less  of  an  on  the  gown,  than  he  has,  with 
absurd  prodigality ,  on  the  glass.  Such  are  the  ob- 
servations of  the  most  self-sufficient,  insolent,  abu- 
sive, dogmatical  writer  who  ever  set  pen  on  paper. 
Ah  and  sempa'  are  not  mere  expletives  :  they  are  in- 
tended to  signify  often,  or  long  time,  by  every  poet ; 
and  a  literal  version  of  them  is  used  for  the  same 
purpose,  in  English,  iij  French,  and,  as  I  believe,  in 
most,  if  not  all,  of  the  modern  tongues  in  Europe. 

I  am  obliged  to  quote  Pautu  more  frequently 
than  any  other  critic  ;  for  the  others  are  chiefly  bu- 
sied in  settling  the  metre,  which  I  pass  over  unno- 
ticed, or  in  stating  the  various  readings  j  whereas 
Pauw  adds  his  opinion  of  the  merits  or  demerits  of 
almost  ever}'  ode. 

*  Tvvm]  O  wonujn.  Neither  ^?'\l?^^  in  Hebrew, 
nor  n  yvtou  in    Greek,    sounded,  in   those  Ian- 


52 


53 


Ev'-ii  slippers  I'd  be,  could  I  gain  my  request ; 
For  sure  'tis  a  joy  by  your  foot  to  be  press'd*. 

giiagcs,  as  O  "noman  docs  to  an  English  ear.  Ifo- 
mer  makes  a  princess  addressed  by  that  title  j  Ana- 
creon  here  gives  it  to  his  fair  one  j  characters  which 
are  always  treated  with  the  highest  degree  of  flat- 
tery, or,  at  least,  respect. 

*   Mo»6»  'TToaiv  Trartk*  ^j]    bj/  your  feet  to  be  kicked, 
or  trodden. — On  this  concluding  line  M.  Paiav  ob- 
serves,— si  ad  pr(tcedaitl(i  et  indolein  sennonis  atten- 
das,  facile  lidtbis  mccum,  hctc  Jtietri  necessitate  etiam 
(i.  e.  this  line,  as  well  as  the  word  oiu  before  men- 
tioned) extoiia  esse  hounni  pauperis  iugtnii. — Thus 
it  seems  that  an  entire  line  of  an  ode,  not  confined 
to  any  given  number  of  lines,  and  which  has  the 
same  measure  in  every  line,  is  an  expletive  only  to 
complete  the  measure — the  measure  of  what?  of  the 
whole  ode  ?  That  sure  is  too  ridiculous.  Is  the  verse 
then  an  expletive  to  complete  itself  ?  That  is,  if  pos- 
sible, worse.     A  reader,  for  aught  I  know,  may 
discover  the  critic's  intention :   but,  for  my  part,  I 
can  find  nothing  in  it,  but  what,  to  my  judgement, 
seems  evident  nonsense. 


ODE    XXVI. 

ON  HIMSELF. 

When  Bacchus  has  fully  replenish'd  the  veins, 

No  trouble  can  reach  or  can  tease  us : 
I  sing  o'er  the  bowl,  am  a  stranger  to  pains, 

And  think  myself  rich  as  a  Crcesus. 
Then  wreathing  green  ivy  my  forehead  around, 

So  fruitful  is  liquor  of  mirth, 
Contented  I  stretch  at  fulllength  on  the  ground, 

And  spurn  all  the  things  upon  earth*. 

*  Ktiixcn,  frzru  Y ocTrsitrx.']  When  a  man,  by  filthy 
ebriety,  has  brought  himself  into  a  temporary  pal- 
sy, and  temporary  idiotism  j  when  his  limbs  cannot 
support  him  ;  when  the  os  sublimeMes  groveling  like 
a  hog  upon  the  ground,  and  every  word,  which  he 
can  articulate,  shows  the  fool;  then  he  becomes 
the  most  excellent  being  upon  earth  ! — A  very  na- 
tural picture,  on  which  Pauiv  does  n«t  make  any 


54 


65 


Let  others  love  war — bring  a  bottle,  my  boy*! 

For  have  it  1  will,  and  I  must. — 
Dead-drunk  to  lie  stretch'd,  is  allow'd  to  be  joy. 

But  none  to  lie  dead  in  the  dust. 

remark,    though  delighted   by  the   preternatural 
image  of  a  drunken  dove. 

*  '0irx»f ',  iyt»  h  7r»»«.]  I  have  followed  the  version 
o(  Il.Stcph.  The  ode  requires  it  J  and  S^rTufi,  instead 
of  oTrXifH,  an  active,  instead  of  a  passive  verb,  and 
vice  versa,  is  not  uncommon  in  poetical  language. 
*— We  have  a  parallel  to  this  ode  in  Ode  XXXVIII. 

Let  those,  whom  martial  glory  charms, 
Indulge  their  dang'rous  choice  of  arms. 
F«r  me,  O  boy,  produce  the  cup,  &c. 


ODE    XXVIII. 

OF  HIS  MISTRESS,  TO  THE  PAINTER. 

Master  of  the  rosy  art*, 
Try  the  pleasing,  friendly  part : 
Paint  my  beauty  all  divine ; 
Colour  you,  and  I'll  design. 
.  Make  her  tresses  easy  lie. 
Softly  touch'd,  and  black  the  die. 
If  your  tint  so  far  prevailsf , 
Paint  them  breathing  od'rous  gales. 

*  'Po5f»i  ]  rosy.  H.  Steph.  who  is  followed  by  all 
the  critics,  has  changed, this  word  into  *Po^$*j?,  Rho" 
dian  j  and  Pauia  adds  quaintly,  that^J'tr,;  maleolet, 
et  rosas  minime  spiral.  However,  I  think  that 
painting  may  be  styled,  and  with  sufficient  proprie- 
ty, the  rosy  art ;  for  most,  if  not  all  mixed  colours, 
are  warmed  with  a  portion  of  red,  as  every  painter 
knows. 

t  At  hmreu.']  Anacreon  is  right,  says  Faber,  to  add 


6G 


Next,  her  forehead  fmooth  and  fair* 
Gently  raise  beneath  her  hair. 

if  possible,  since  a  picture  is  not  made  for  the  nose, 
but  eyes  :   an  observation  worthy  of  Pauiv  himself ! 

jc.  T.  A.]  The  whole  sentence  runs,  in  regard  to  the 
hair  and  forehead,  thus — paint  out  of,  or  from  an  ai- 
tire  cheek,  under  her  beaut  ful  hair,  an  ivory  forehead , 
The  adjective  entire,  is  rendered  plena  by  Baxter  and 
Mr.  Banits,  who  tell  us,  that  quoniam  uiraquc  genu 
non  potuil  integra  dtpingi,  voluit  autent  unarn  ccrte 
intes^rum  poni,  quo  et  ipsa  from  compectior  fiei'et ; 
which  seems  to  imply,  that,  by  turning  a  face,  from 
being  full,  toward  a  profile,  we  lessen  one  cheek, 
and  make  the  forehead  conspcctior  to  the  view. 
Such  drawing,  to  me,  is  inconceivable.  Blaterant 
misai,  cries  Pauw ;  aliud  requiritur,  quod  tribus 
vei'bis  tibi  vxponarn.  ria^ita  IM  est  gena  plenior,  quam 
nulla  imicies  obsidet. — }sihil  naturalius,  nihil  accom- 
tnodatius.  It  seems  that  a  plena  could  not  satisfy 
our  critic  3  he  must  have  a  plenior  getui,  which  re- 
presents to  our  imagination  a  cheek  swelled  out  by 
a  violent  tooth-ach.  There  should  be  a  medium 
between  plenior  and  macilenta,  or  you  cannot  have 
an  agreeable  contour.  Beside,  I  do  not  recollect 
ever  to  have  seen  o?vo;  made  use  of  to  signify  plump 


07 

Form  a  brow  on  either  side ; 
Mi>;  them  not,  nor  yet  divide*; 

or  prominent.  There  is  here  another  difficulty, 
which  the  commentators  have  passed  over  without 
any  remark  j  I  mean,  with  what  propriety  the  fore- 
head can  be  said  to  rise  out  of  the  cheek,  whether 
lean  or  plump.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  answer  this 
question,  nor  do  1  understand  what  the  poet  means 
by  his  epithet  o^»c.  Mr.  Barnes  render^  Ivoito^cpv- 
§aio-i  p^atTa»5,  sub  violaceis  capillis,  and  tells  us,  in  his 
notes,  that  Tumerlam  the  Tartar  boasted  of  purple 
hair.  This  is  really  surprising,  since  he  could  not 
but  know  that  w&^ipt/go,  is  here  an  epithet  only,  and 
that  the  hair  of  this  portrait  is  expressly  painted 
black. 

•*  M»)  jiiisi  ^taxoTTTs,  jwr^Ti  fA»o->e.]  Neither  cut  them  nor 
mingle  them.  A  junction  of  the  eye-brows  was 
considered  by  some  writers  as  an  eminent  beauty. 
It  is  not  generally  thought  so  at  present:  but  there 
is  no  accounting  for  different  tastes.  Fetronius 
runs  into  a  wild  excess.  Supercilia  ad  malarwu 
stricturam  currentia,  et  rursus  confinio  luminumpene 
pennixta.  This  in  nature  would  be  monstrous  j 
on  canvas,  a  mere  caricature.  Puuiv  acknow- 
ledges that  the  brows  are  arched  3  but  of  the  eye- 
lids he  says  that  orbis  est  nullus;    he  is  profoundly 

D  5 


58 


69 


Let  no  eye  distinctly  see 
Where  they  part,  or  where  agree. 
Then  her  eye-lash  must  arise 
Black  and  circling  o'er  her  eyes. 

Now  her  eyes  your  hand  require ; 
Paint  them  sparkling  as  the  fire, 
Awful  as  the  queen  of  arms*, 
Lively  as  the  queen  of  charmst. 

ignorant  of  painting  ;  but  it  seems  strange  that  he 
never  looked  at  a  human  face. 

*  r?iavxo>]  blue.  The  epithet  y'KavKvm^  is  so 
appropriated  to  Alineiva,  that  we  must  under- 
stand by  it,  in  this  place,  her  look  in  general,  and 
not  the  particular  colour  of  her  eyes :  see  the  fol- 
loVing  Ode.  Barnes  defines  T-Xavxo?  to  be  color 
subvirldist  albo  mixtiiXf  et  quasi  clarus,  et  igneo  quO- 
datn  splaulore  suffusus:  a  definition  which,  I  think, 
represents  too  exactly  the  eye  of  a  cat. 

t  *Yygo»,  i?  Ki;6»!^?.]  Wet  as  the  ei^e  of  Venus.  The 
version  of  Cy^o?,  which  Hen.  Steph.  gives,  is  pcttus ; 
he  takes  it  from  a  Latin  epigram,  which  ascribes 
an  oculus  pat  us  to  the  queen  of  love.   I  wish  that  I 


^    • 


<: 


Next  attempt  her  cheeks  and  nose :- 
Blend  the  fairness  through  the  rose*; 

could  agree  with  him  j  for  it  is  really  painful  to 
contradict  such  an   eminent  critic  5  but  I  appre- 
hend, from  Horace,  that  pcztus  regards  the  situa- 
tion of  an  eye  in  its  socket,  and  by  no  means  the 
beauty  or  vivacity  of  it  j  for,  says  he,  Strabonan  ap- 
pellat  poetum ;  here  a  pectus  seems  to  be  a  strabo  in 
a  lesser  degree  j  since  it  is  absurd  to  imagine  that 
a  parent  is  so  blind,  as  to  call  a  manifest  deformity 
in  a  child,  by  the  name  of  an  opposite  beauty. 
The  fondest  of  mothers  would  attempt  only  to  pal- 
liate, not  to  praise  3   for  praise  would  be  ridicule  on 
such  an  occasion  j  (though  our  dull  commentator,  in 
usum  Dclpliiniy  tells  us  that  pcztus  means  a  rolling 
and  beauteous  eye  like  that  of  Venus.)     I  would 
chuse  to   translate   Horace-^"  in  friendship    we 
"  should  imitate  the  fond  parent,  who  says,  of  a 
squinting  child,  that  it  has  a  cas^"— a  patus  is  ex- 
actly opposite  to  a  strabo;  in  the  former,  the  iris 
is  turned  outward,  or  toward  the  temples;  but  in 
the  latter,  (which  is  far  more  disgusting)  invariably 
toward  the  inner  canthus.     When  a  side-look  is  not 
fixed,  but  occasionally  mimicked,   it  may  be  fitly 
ascribed  to  a  Venus.     In  regard  to  vy^o(i,  I  under- 
stand it  here  in  its  natural  meaning,  xuet-,  a  bright 


i 


()(!) 


Then  her  lip's  persuasive  grace, 
Softly  courting  an  embrace. 

eve  constantly  seems  as  wetted ;  whereas,  if  that 
organ  appears  dryish,  it  indicates  stupidity  or  dis- 
order. The  surface  of  water  is  so  bright  and  vivid, 
that  even  the  lustre  of  a  diamond  is  by  jewellers 
called  the  Kata-.   Henee  Varnel: 

He  m  ide  her  eyes  with  di'mond  water  shine. 

Perhaps  Horace  alludes  to  this  vivacity  by  vuhus 
lubricus:  Solo!?>on,  who  was  a  perfect  judge  of 
beauty,  says,  thine  ej/cs  are  ihe Jibh-pools ;  here  the 
metaphor  cannot  bear  any  dispute :  and  it  must  be 
with  reference  to  the  clearness  and  brightness  of 
water,  that  Musmis  gives  the  epithet  ^7^05  to  the 
virgin-blushes  of  his  delicate  IJcro— 

A  idol;  vypQt  f^;t;6oc  otitoc-tccL^iaa  wcocwtth. 
•  \\hi  Tfc  yaXaxTj  w.  |  5.]  liUndiri'^  the  fairness  j  &c. 
Mr.  Barnes  says,  tit  ii/  major  in  genis  rosei  coluris 
mixtura,  minor  in  naso,  ct  e  contra,  dfc.  That  in- 
deed is  requin  d,  but  not  by  the  text,  which  does 
not  give  any  ~uch  implication.  Our  poet,  in  this 
de.-<cription ,  compares  the  skin  of  his  mistress  to 
ivory,  milk,  and  marble.  For  my  part,  when  I 
read  n  the  poets  of  a  skin  like  milk,  snow,  or  lilies^ 
I  consider  such  lunouag  .■  as  men  1/ hyperbolical 3 
partly^  because  such  a  akin  would  be  monstrous  and 


k-^ 


61 

Let  a  thousand  graces  deck 
All  her  Parian-marble  neck. 

terrific ;    and  partly,  because  the  Grecians,  when 
not  figurative,  are  in  their  painting  extremely  warm. 
As  to  ivory  and  marble,  they  are   made  similes 
on  account  of  their  uniform  colour  and  excellent 
smoothness.      A  skin  without  any  pimple,  spot, 
freckle,  or  wrinkle,  would  be  an  elegant  skin  in- 
deed, and,  in  that  respect,  like  good  ivory  or  the 
beautiful  stone  of  Paros.    Thus  Horace  compares 
Glj/cera  to  marble,  not  for  the  whiteness,  but  for 
the  clearness  and  purity  of  the  stone. 
Urit  me  G/j/cera;  nitor 
Splendent  is  Pario  marmore  purius. 
And  the  bard  himself,  in  his  encomium  on  the  rose, 
(Ode  LIII.)  declares,  that,  without  the  colour  of 
that   flower,   it  would  be  impossible  to  describe 
Venus,  or  any  one  of  the  celestial  fair.     Pauw  can- 
not believe  that  the  nose  is  here  concerned  at  all. 
—Color  lactis  et  rosarum  mixtus  ad  solas  genas  per- 
tinet— Fades  hie  mixtum  ilium  colorem  non  admittit-^ 
nihil  fuit  ahsurdiiis  quam  frontem  ebujTieam  facere, 
facian  autem  reliqmmi  ita  colorare,  ut  lactis  et  ro- 
sarum referrct  mixturam.      Hoc  perspicuum  est.— 
Certum  i^itur  est  quod  de  genis  dicimus  solis.     Paint 
the  nose  and  cheeks,  says  the  original,  mixing  tjie 


,  J*!*     ^-**i 


^) 


62 

Painter,  now,  to  clothe  the  rest, 
Form  a  purple,  slender  vest, 
Clear,  pellucid,  that  her  skin 
Half  observ'd  shall  lie  within  : 
Prying  fancy  thus  may  know, 
Wond'rous  beauties  are  below. 

Hold!  enough!   I  seethe  fair*: 

All  her  charms  confess 'd  appear  ! 

rose  with  the  milk — What  rose  with  what  milk  ? 
Most  evidently  the  rose  of  her  cheek  with  the  milk 
or  fairness  of  her  nose  j  where  these  colours  meet, 
they  should  be  so  Xi^jjOotw?  blended  together^  as 
to  leave  no  perceptible  line  of  distinction.  In  my 
judgement,  the  poet  is  extremely  clear  :  but  what- 
ever Pauiv  does  not  understand,  of  necessity  must 
be  wrong  j  accordingly  he  concludes,  Fo'etam  adju- 
vare  non  possimius ;    etmox  culpa  ejus  recurrit  certa, 

•  A7ri;^a"  ^Mntu  ya^  ai/Ttjir.]  Except  here  and  in 
St.  Mark,  the  word  awip(^iv,  meaning  sat  est,  sujicit, 
is  not  to  be  found  among  the  Grecian  writers  now 
extant.  Wherefore  the  critics  would  change  it  ac- 
cordiag  to  their  different  fancies.  Hen.  Steph.  (in 
his  Thesaurus)  would  read  awi;^f,  which  agrees  with 


'   s. 


\ 


.  ^('V 


C; 


63 

Such  the  work  in  ev*ry  feature, 
Voice  would  make  it  real  nature. 

XaCi  (MiT^ity  in  the  following  ode,  as  to  the  sense :  but, 
for  want  of  fx»cr9o»,  it  is  a  most  uncommon  ellipsis. 
Pauw  chuses  it  also  in  St.  Mark:  yet  I  cannot  ad- 
mit his  explanation  of  the  passage  j  for  it  implies 
that  our  Lord  was  ignorant  of  the  approach  of 
Judas,  until  he  was  close  at  hand.  Whitl^,  in  his 
comment  on  the  Evangelist,  renders  Anacreon  in 
such  a  manner,  as  shows  the  necessity  of  under- 
standing somewhat  of  painting,  before  we  can  un- 
derstand the  Grecian  poets.  He  conceives  the 
bard  to  mean,  ''  hold !  I  see  the  beauty  herself, 
(^XiTTw  av-mf)  and  therefore  have  no  need  of  her  pic- 
ture." I  wonder  that  he  never  heard  such  com- 
mon phrases  as  are  used,  when,  pointing  to  pic- 
tures, we  say,  there  is  the  very  woman,  or  tliere  is  the 
man  standing  before  you,  intending  only  to  praise  m 
accurate  likeness. 


61 


ODE    XXIX. 

ON  THE  SAME  SUBJECT*. 

Artist,  as  nicely  as  you  can, 
My  beauty  paint,  and  this  the  plan. 
Begin  :  and  first  her  lovely  hair 
Requires  a  master's  skill  and  care : 


*  Ton  01  vatdff  iicn  xaXci,— ocroy  tnutaai  yvtaixi  x^*^^» 
says  Glj/cera  in  Athenctus ;  and  n  »«» ira^snof  ^htTru*, 
says  our  bard  in  a  fragment.  I  have  therefore, 
without  injuring  the  portrait,  changed  the  title  of 
this  ode,  which,  mutatis  nomhiibus  dtorum,  could  as 
justly  be  inscribed  ws^i  rr?  ^oj(xun<;,  as  «•!§»  t«  B-rGtA^a^ 
were  it  not  for  one  passage,  which  I  have  omitted, 
as  being  too  coarse  for  a  modern  ear.  Mr.  Barnes 
has  given  a  long  defcmio  iroLkh^xa-noL-.y  a  subject 
which  the  learned  well  know,  and  which  would 
give  little  pleasure,  and  still  less  improvement,  to 
an  English  reader. 


) 


( 


.65 

A  vivid  black  must  charm  the  sight ; 
But  on  the  summit  raise  the  light*. 
Dispose  your  curls  through  ev'ry  part 
With  feign'd  neglect,  with  artless  artt : 
Let  all  as  free  and  easy  flow. 
As  sporting  nature  bid  them  grow. 

Her  forehead  softly  touch;  and  now 
A  well-turn'd  crescent  make  the  brow. 

Black  be  her  sparkling  eyes  design'd, 
Severely  keen,  yet  softly  kind. 
From  Pallas  take  the  glance  severe  ; 
From  Venus  add  the  milder  air  ; 

•  E?  axpov  •;iX»a)£7«5.]  Sunni/,  or  shinins;  on  the  suimnit, 
or  prominent  part.  See  this  explained  in  a  com- 
ment on  a  beautiful  simile  in  Musceus. 

t  'E^txa?  S'  iXsySffou? -K.  T.  X.]  Every  word  here  is 
nicely  chosen.  The  poet  would  not  say,  make  the 
curls  lie,  but  a^«c,  permit  them  to  lie,  «<;  0tX«<7»,  as 
they  please,  cltol^ix  av»6eK,  disposing  them  idthout  a 
stiff  regularity . 


a.-\»;.- 


,) 


66  . 

That  each  who  sees,  and  fondly  burns, 
May  hope,  and  trembling  dread  by  turns*. 
Now  paint  her  cheeks,  and  paint  them,  each 

Soft  as  the  tend'rest  downy  peach ; 
O'er  which,  with  lively  colour,  spread 
A  modest  bloom  of  rosy  red. 

The  lips  all  pow'r  of  words  defy  ! 
In  those  let  just  persuasion  lie  : 
Through  ev'ry  touch  bid  nature  wake, 
As  if  the  picture  meant  to  speakt. 

•  Ua  TK  TO  f4.f9  ^  <c>jTa»— «.  T.  X.]  The  alternate 
hopes  and  fears  of  a  lover  are  well  expressed  by 
Musctus  in  the  following  line. — 

*Ei>>i  ^t  \jii$  ToTi  $au(ooc,  ara»^iti),  rpofxo^y  atltv;. 

If  Pauiv  knew  any  thing  of  painting,  he  would 
certainly  have  damned  the  whole  ode,  and  cried 
out,  as  usual,  ineptilt  poeta^  who  begins  with  the 
locks  before  he  had  touched  the  face  ;  but  Anacreon 
considered  only  the  beauties  of  partial  description, 
and  not  any  general  regularity  or  correctness  of 
design. 

t  Aa?itt9  ntnni]  speaking  silently.     As  the  lowest 


I  f 


ii    '.-■ 


67 

Thus  form'd  complete  her  face  divine- 
As  iv'ry  smooth,  the  neck  design. 
From  Dian's  train  collect  the  rest, 
The  welUturn'd  limb,  the  hand,  the  breast. 

Alas !  imperfect  is  your  art. 
Which  can't  at  once  show  ev'ry  part. 
A  thousand  charms  the  eye  may  find. 
When  plac'd  her  faultless  shape  behind. 

Why  should  I  speak  of  feet?— my  task 
Is  ended  :  take  whate'er  you  ask  : 
Exact  from  Venus  draw  the  fair. 
With  all  her  great,  celestial  air: 
Or,  if  my  nymph  you  chance  to  see, 
Her  form  shall  Venus  plan  for  thee. 

whisper,  in  every  language  which  has  labials,  re- 
quires some  motion  of  the  lips,  I  like  better  what 
our  poet  says  in  a  fragment,  tli^  picture  seem  Usterir 
ins»  and  expects  that  sonie  person  would  speak  to  it. 


68 


i  ■♦ 


69 


ODE    XXX. 

0^'  CUPID. 

It  chanc'd,  when  the  Muses  young  Cupid  had 
found, 
Surprising  the  god  as  he  lay, 
They  took  him,  with  garlands  and  fillets  they 
bound, 
Then  gave  to  fair  Beauty  the  prey*. 

Tu  KaX\u  «rafi^ft;xa».]  Thej/  delivered  him  to 
Beauty.  This  prosopopoeia  makes  Venus  and  Beauty 
two  different  Y>eTson6,—  Odanum  vere  eiegans,  says 
Pawiv,  in  quo  nihil  est  quod  reprehendi  possit.  He 
might  have  been  more  kind,  by  explaining  to  us 
wherein  lies  the  particular  elegance  of  this  little 
fable.  If  a  moral  is  expected,  I  suppose  it  may  be^ 
that,  when  a  woman  is  truly  amiable,  she  secure'' 
the  attachment  of  her  admirer, 

" -tenetque  grata 

C'yrnpede  vinctutn. 


\ 


r 


Now  Venus,  his  liberty  wishing  to  gain, 
Proposes  to  ransom  her  Love 

But  Cupid  determines — so  pleasing  his  chain- 
Though  free,  that  he  never  will  move. 


70 


71 


ODE   XXXII. 

ON  HIS  LOVES*. 

Whoe'er  can  tell  the  ocean-waves. 
Or  number  all  the  summer-leaves, 
May  try  alone  the  arduous  part, 
And  sum  the  conquests  o'er  my  heart. 

•  Odarium  hand  dubie,  cries  Puuw,  tst  hominis 
recentioris,  qui  Tl^To^oy^a^  anuibat,  euvujue  prccfcre- 
bat  antiquorum  aurece  simplicitati .  Hence  we  must 
conclude  that  hyperbole  was  unknown  to  ancient 
poets  ',  which  Jtaud  dubie  is  plainly  false.  This  cri- 
tic often  declares  war  against  rhetorical  figures.  It 
seems  that  Virgil  and  he  considered  hyperbole  in  dif- 
ferent lights  :  what  would  he  say  to  the  following 
passage  ? 

Millia  quot  inagnis  nunfjtiom  venere  Mycenis. 

Some  may  think  this  a  natural  expression  of  fear  : 
but  our  hypercritic  would  exclaim,  Nugcr,  nuga;  a 
palpable  contradiction ! 


1-^ 


1 


iv 


i 


First  courtly  Athens  write,  and  there 
A  list  of  five  and  thirty  fair. 
Achaia  next  your  pen  requires, 
Where  crowds  on  crowds  my  soul  desires ; 
For  Corinth  boasts  a  lovely  race. 
Attractive,  form'd  with  ev'ry  grace. 
Now  reckon  twice  a  thousand  dames, 
My  Lesbian,  Carian,  Rhodian  flames. 
What!    still  more  loves? — Yes,  more  and 

more ; 
I  pass'd  as  yet  my  Syrian  store ; 
I  pass'd  as  yet  untold  the  Nile, 
And  happy  Crete's  all-plenteous  isle*. 


♦  There  is  not  a  poet,  not  a  historian,  whether 
Greek  or  Latin,  who  speaks  of  Crete,  without  cele- 
brating it  for  riches  and  numerous  fleets  ;  hence  we 
may  conclude  that  it  enjoyed  every  article  of  conve- 
niency  and  luxury  which  a  trade  to  Europe,  Afric, 
and  Asia,  could  afford.    I  am  therefore  surprised  to 


72 


7S 


Where  love  their  circling  pleasure  crowns, 
And  revels  through  a  hundred  towns. 
Still  shall  I  speak,  and  tell  the  rest, 
Whose  winning  forms  my  soul  possess'd  ? 
For  thousands  still  I  feel  the  pain, 
From  India  to  the  western  main  *. 

find  Madame  Dacier  ignorant  of  what  the  poet 
means  by  his  epithet  uvxn  txvayi;,  containing  every 
thing.  If  a  modern  writer  should  say  of  London,  it 
contains  every  thing,  or  every  thing  nuty  be  had  in  it, 
I  believe  that  his  meaning  would  rarely  be  mista- 
ken. 

ExTo<  av  TaSti^vv — k.  t.  X.]     frofn  Cadiz  to  In- 
dia.  Thus  Juvenal : 

••  a  Gadibus  usque 


Auroram  et  Gangai. 


These  are  proverbial  expressions,  to  signify  all  the 
world.  Hue,  si  liceret,  says  Mr.  Barnes,  adjicerein, 
rTuXwf  ^1  S  *H^axXt»a;r.  The  sense  would  then  be,  / 
admire  all  the  girls  from  this  to  Cadiz,  and  for  a  part 
oftJie  way.  I  wonder  that  Barries  did  not  mind  the 
absurdity  of  such  an  addition. 


A 


civ- 


^^ 


ODE    XXXIII. 


TO  THE  SWALLOtr. 

You  come,  fair  Swallow,  ev'ry  year*, 
To  build,  when  genial  suns  appear ; 

*  XiX»?Vv.]  Snalloiv.    The  situation  of  this  bird 
in  the  winter  is  variously  reported  by  various  au- 
thors. Since  the  time  of  Olaiis  Magnus,  it  has  been 
generally  held  that  swallows  plunge  into  lakes  and 
ponds,  are  frozen  over,  and  so  continue  until  the 
return  of  spring.     Dcrham  was  of  this  opinion,  but, 
to  confirm  it,  tells  such  an  idle  tale  as  is  enough 
to  discredit  his  whole  relation — "  An  ancient  fish- 
erman," says  he,    ''  accounted  an  honest  man, 
saw,  at  a  very  low  ebb,  a  black  list  of  some- 
''  thing  adhering  to  the  rock.    He  found  it  was  a 
'^  great  number  of  swallows  hanging  by  the  feet  to 
"  one  another,  as  bees  do,  which  were  covered  com- 
''  monly  by  the  sea-waters,"  &c.— Supposing  them 
to  escape  from  crabs,  cods,  and  other  voracious 
fishes,  how  can  we  imagine  that  bodies,  incompam- 

B 


(r 


cc 


74 


>»,:- 


"^  /z. 


And,  ere  chill  snows  the  plains  defile, 
Retire  to  Memphis  or  the  Nile. 

bly  heavier  than  swallows,  would  not  by  wintry 
storms,  and  consequent  surges,  be  dashed  to  pieces 
against  the  rocks,  or  cast  up  and  scattered  along 
the  beach?  Neither  seals,  crocodiles,  hippopotami, 
frogs,  beavers,  nor  any  kind  of  amphibious  ani- 
mals, whether  their  usual  residence  is  on  earth,  in 
fresh  or  salt  water,  could  for  a  week,  much  less  for 
half  the   year,   abide  without  inhaling  a  greater 
quantity  of  air  than  water  is  known  to  afford.  Even 
whales,  though  not  amphibious,  require  a  due  pro- 
portion.    No  animal  can  subsist  without  a  circula- 
tion of  blood  J  and  what  motion  of  the  lungs,  what 
systole  or  diastole  of  the  heart,  what  vis  motrlx  of 
circulation  can  swallows  have,  without  gills,  when 
the  whole  thorax  is,  of  necessity,  full  of  water  ? 
Beside,   those   birds    are  so   numerous,  that  few 
ponds,  if  the  bishop  is  right,  would  be  without  a 
collection  of  them  j  and  their  ascent  or  descent 
could  not  escape  the  yearly  observation  of  many 
different  persons.      For  these  reasons,  I  believe 
the  common  report  of  swallows  to  be  nothing  more 
than  a  fable.     Our  poet  says  that  they  retire  to 
southern  climes  :  and  if  the  Greeks  so  conjectured, 
because  those  birds  disappear  before  the  Etesian 


I 


But  Love  a  strong  perennial  nest 
Forms  in  my  hapless  tortur'd  breast ; 

winds  are  quite  ended^  it  was  a  natural  supposition. 
Ey  the  Romans  it  was  judged  that  they  slept  hid- 
den among  the  rocks  : 

Cum  glaciantur  aquoe,  scopulis  se  condit  hirundo, 
Willoughbi/  is  on  the  Grecian  side  j  and  his  opinion 
is  put  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt  by  M.  Adanson 
the  naturalist,  who  resided  five  years  at  Senegal, 
and  is  a  truly  candid,  ingenuous  writer.     He  telJf 
us,  that,  on   his  passage  thither,  four  European 
swallows  perched  on  the  tackle  of  his  ship  near  the 
coast  of  Africa,  but  so  fatigued  that  they  could  not 
attempt  to  escape  j  that,  in  Senegal,  during  winter, 
a  crowd  of  them  lay  nightly  on  the  sands 3  that,  at 
Gambia,  many  came  every  evening,  and  slept  with 
him  in  his  hut ;  but  that,  in  those  countries,  they 
never  were  known  to  breed.     To  this  I  must  add 
the  account  of  two  ship-captains,  employed  in  the 
trade  to  Guinea  for  several  years.     Both  of  them 
assured  me  that  swallows  are  as  common  there  in 
December,  as  with  us  in  the  middle  of  May.  These 
reports,  in  my  opinion,  cannot  be  contradicted  with 
any  measure  of  justice :  yet  that  many  of  those 
birds  stay  with  us  through  the  year,  I  know  by 
ocular  demonstration,  having  once  seen    a  largr 


76 


77 


"Never,  oh !  never  thence  removes, 
And  reais,  unceasing,  endless  Loves. 

sleeping  mass  of  them  taken,  in  January,  from  an 
ancient  coal-pit.    It  may  be  objected,  that,  if  some 
go,  and  some  remain,  the  goers  and  residents  are 
actuated  by  a  different  instinct.    True :  but  as  swal- 
lows continue  to  hatch  until  nearly  their  time  of 
disappearing,   may  not    instinct,  as   it    is  called, 
teach  the  young  ones  that  they  have  not  strength 
enough  to  accompany  their  parents  in  a  voyage  to 
the  tropics  or  equinoctial  line  ?  and  may  not  the 
great  Being,  whose  mercy  is  over  all  his  works,  pre- 
pare them  for  sleep  during  winter,  since  flies,  their 
only  nutriment,  cannot  then  be  obtained  ?  Are  not 
young  birds  always  fatter  than  the  old  which  feed 
them  ?  so  that,  while  the  parents  are  enabled,  by 
greater  strength,  to  perform  long  flights,  their  issue 
are  better  provided  for  a  tedious  fast.    I  can  see 
the  benign  disposition  of  our  Creator,  but  nothing 
irrational,  in  such  conjectures. 

Perhaps  what  has  been  said  of  swallows,  is  partly 
true  of  quails.  These  are  also  birds  of  passage, 
but  not  sleepers,  which  come  in  large  flights  from 
Africa  in  the  spring,  breed  here,  and  return  before 
the  cold  is  disagreeable  to  them.  Yet  that  many 
(young  ones,  I  suppose)  remain  in  these  countries^ 


Some  half  appear  :  some  newly  gain 
Their  wings;  and  some  unhatch'd  remain. 
No  silence  dwells  the  broods  among; 
But  ever  chirp  the  callow  young : 
Loves  upon  Loves  eternal  press; 
The  larger  educate  the  less  ; 

m 

And  these  in  turn,  when  fully  grown, 
Produce  an  offspring  of  their  own. 

Ah  !  what  affords  some  kind  relief  ? 
For  language  vainly  paints  my  grief*. 

and  are  shot  in  the  winter-season,  is  a  truth  well 
known  to  ever)'  fowler. 

*  Ey.^o»j:ra».]  Many  of  the  critics  reject  this  verb, 
which  is  however  defended  by  Mr.  Barnes.  For 
the  proposed  corrections,  see  Pauiv.  The  verb  is 
adopted  by  Catullus  — 

Uhi  cymhaluni  sonat  vox,  ubl  tympana  reboant. 
Mr.  Barnes  quotes  an  imitation  of  this  ode  by  an: 
Italian  nobleman.  Count  Guidobaldo  Bonardli,  in. 
a  pastoral  drama. 


\ 


78 


ODE    XXXVII. 

ON  THE  SPRING. 

Behold!  the  flow'ry  spring  arrives; 
And  slumb'ring  Nature  quick  revives  : 
The  roses  gem :   the  boist'rous  main 
Forgets  to  rage,  and  smiles  serene  : 
The  wanton  duck  in  water  plays  : 
The  stalking  crane  more  boldly  strays*; 
And  Phcebus  lends  a  genial  ray. 
To  cheer  the  bright'ning  face  of  day. 

See!  heav'n  is  cloudless,  mild,  and  clear! 
See!  rural  toils  refresh'd  appear +! 

•  '0^iv!».]  77it'  crane  travels— A  picturesque  ex- 
pression, and  not  unlike  the  spatiatur  of  Virgil. 
Et  sola  in  sicca  secum  spatiatur  arena. 

t  B^TVf  ifya.]  The  luorks  of  men.  These  are  pro- 
perly towns,  towers,  &c.  says  Baxter:  but  he  says 


i 


79 

The  olive  buds ;  the  teeming  Earth 
Calls  forth  her  various  plants  to  birth ; 
And  now  the  vine,  in  early  pride*, 
Diffuses  shoots  on  ev'ry  side. 

it  without  any  kind  of  authority.  How  could  he 
suppose  that  architecture  is  improved  by  the  re- 
turn of  spring  ? 

*  Na/xa — X.  t.  A.]  What  is  here  said  of  the  vine, 
appears  to  be  much  corrupted  j  vaifAx  and  xagTro? 
should  be  in  a  description  of  autumn,  not  of 
spring.  Those  who  are  fond  of  conjectural  emen- 
dation, may  find  guessing  enough  among  the  critics. 


80 


81 


ODE    XXXIX. 

ON  HIMSELF, 

m 
Replenish'd  with  liquor,  well  gladded  my 

heart, — 
Such  force  has  the  juice  of  the  vine, — 
Inspir'd  and  inflara'd  with  the  musical  art, 
I  smg  to  the  praise  of  the  Nine, 

Replenish'd  with  liquor,  the  chaser  of  pain. 

I  feel  neither  sorrow  nor  care, 
But  give  the  hoarse  tempest,  which  ruffles  the 
main, 

To  waft  and  disperse  them  in  air. 

3- 
Replenish'd  with  liquor,  my  spirits  restored. 

Then  Bacchus,  a  lover  of  play. 


^    / 
A 


-  -  A  ■ , 
■:  "J- 

■«■  -'. 


While  new-blowing  roses  their  fragrance  af- 
ford, 
Commands  to  be  frolic  and  gay. 

4- 

Replenish'd  with  liquor,  I  weave  me  a  tire. 

In  chaplets  o'erjoy'd  to  be  dress'd; 
And, crowningmy  temples,  I  praiseand  admire 
Tranquillity,  freedom,  and  rest. 

5- 

Replenish'd  with  liquor,  I  take  the  perfume, — 

For  beauty  my  bosom  alarms — 
Anoint  me  well  over,  a  courage  assume, 

And  catch  the  dear  nymph  in  my  arms. 

6. 
Replenish'd  with  liquor,  high  rais'd  with  aglass, 

My  heart  is  so  free  and  dilated. 

From  sages  and  grave  to  the  cheerful  I  pass, 

And  love  with  the  young  to  be  rated. 

£  5 


82 


83 


Good  liquor  alone  is  the  gain  wc  can  have, 
The  only  fix'd  pleasure  we  boast : 

The  rest  are  all  flitting,  submit  to  the  grave, 
Forsaken,  forgotten,  and  lost. 


/ 


I 


ODE    XL. 

ON  CUPID. 
As  heedless  Cupid  chanc'd  to  rove 

« 

Where  fragrant  roses  deck'd  the  grove, 
A  bee,  which  lay  the  flow'rs  among, 
Unmark'd,  his  finger  deeply  stung. 
Quick  to  his  lips  the  wound  apply *d. 
He  suck'd,  hesooth'd,  and  loudly  cry'd. 

To  Venus  now,  in  trembling  haste, 
He  ran,  he  flew,  by  pain  oppress^d^ 
And  **  Mother,  oh!  assist  your  son  f 
"  Assist,"  he  cries:  "  Fm  lost !  undone*! 

*  OxuT^a — x'Tro^imoKu.']  Cvpid,  says  Pauxv,  was  not 
such  a  fool,  utut  pai-vus  et  tenellus,  prcesertim  ubija?n 
arcu  valebatj  as  to  think  himself  in  danger  of  death. 
Nonne  illud  oXwXa,  nonne  illud  ccrro^mcKu  nimlum  est 
in  ore  pueri  immortalis  ? — A  truly  ridiculous  note 
indeed  !  It  is  hardly  worth  observing  that  verbs. 


84 


85 


'*  Pierc'd  by  a  dragon — here  you  see — 
•*  Swains  call  the  monstrous  snake  a  bee." 

"  Think  then,"  the  beauteous  queen  replies, 
**  If  wounds  can  pain  of  such  a  size, 
*'  What  hapless  man  is  doom'd  to  know, 
**  At  whom  you  draw  your  deadly  bow." 

which  in  strictness  mean  c'j/in:^,  expiring,  &c.  are 
used,  in  most  languages,  to  signify  nothing  more 
than  great  uneasiness  of  body  or  mind. 


I 


1 


ODE    XLIII. 

0^f  THE  GRASS-HOPFER. 

Dew-fed  Tettix,  happy  thou*, 
Perching  on  a  leafy  bough  ! 

*  Terlil.]  The  tettix,  or  grass-hoppa\  M.  Adan- 
son  the  naturalist,  wh^n  jailing  up  the  Niger,  was 
delighted  by  the  fine  meadows,  enlivened  by  grass- 
hoppers of  a  beautiful  green  colour,  variegated  with 
a  lively  red.  In  these  parts  of  Europe,  they  are  of 
a  dusky  gi-eenish  colour,  but,  as  in  Afric,  are  con- 
stantly on  the  ground :  yet  the  Greek  writers  uni- 
versally place  them  on  the  trees  3  a  remarkable 
difference  made  by  ditFerent  cUmes. 

The  Grecians,  as  appears  from  j£lian,  were  used 
in  his  time  to  eat  those  insects  j  which  may  be 
thought  strange  by  a  reader  who  had  no  other  ac- 
count of  them  than  what  he  collected  from  the 
Grecian  poets.  But  an  authentic  traveler  informs 
us  that  "  sometimes  grass-hoppers  do  fall  so  thick 
"  in  Constantinople,  in  the  summer-time,  and  that 
*'  especially  in  June  and  July,  that  a  man  cannot 
*'  pass  in  the  streets  of  Constantinople  or  Galata, 


86 


87 


€t 


Happy,  while  you  sit  and  sing, 
Thron'd  sublimely  as  a  king* ! 
Meadows,  blossoms,  all  you  see, 
Ev'ry  sweet  belongs  to  thee. 
Fav'rite  songster  of  the  swain. 
Harmless  to  his  tender  grainf  ; 

but  he  shall  every  where  tread  upon  them  ;  also 

they  fly  so  thick  upon  the  tops  of  houses,  that 
"  they  do  cover  the  tiles.  Besides,  they  are  much 
*'  greater  than  ours,"  &c.  This  being  the  case, 
we  may  readily  believe  that  such  persons  might  eat 
the  grass-hopper,  as  had  a  stomach  and  taste  to  eat 
the  locust.  The  song  of  it  is  merely  hyperbolical  j 
it  has  a  monotonous  and  hoarse  chirp  only  ;  where- 
fore Honnev  justly  compares  the  chat  of  old  men  on 
a  tower  to  the  voice  of  a  grass-hopper. 

*  BacTj^it;?  e»«<]  as  a  king.  Since  the  creature 
does  no  injury,  this  plainly  regards  its  situation,  not 
its  voice ;  thus  we  say,  such  a  house  commands  all 
the  country  round  about  it. 

+  A»o  fAri^tvoq  T»  CxawTftfjf.]  Pauiv  has  much  better 

explained  this  passage  than  Mr.  Barnes;  verba  tra^ 

jecta,  says  he  :  or  do  est,  aitt^'Kx'mvt  t»  ^r,^iitoj,  nuUius 

quid  ladens.     To  f/j^^tfo^  respicit  ysu^ut  prcecedens. 

Tales  trajectiones  sunt  satis  frequentes ;   quanquam 


•>-  ft-- 


All  thy  cheering  notes  adore, 
Prophet  of  autumnal  store. 

Happy  too  in  Phoebus'  choice! 
Phoebus  gave  thy  little  voice. 
Free  from  age's  slow  decline, 
Pleasing  thou  to  all  the  Nine. 

Wise,  harmonious,  gentle,  good, 
Earth-born,  void  of  flesh  and  blood*. 
Whom  no  passions  triumph  o'er — 
Sure  the  gods  are  scarcely  moref! 

Bamesius  certe  ita  vertit;  "  de  nihilo  quicquam 
Icedens." — ^Then  he  proceeds  as  usual — quid  mirian  ? 
ab  ipsa  infant ia  sua  nugari  didicerat  bonus. 

*  Infiumana;  cicadct.  Mart. — Plin^  observes 
that  insects  have  neither  ncrvos,  nee  ossa,  nee  spinas, 
nee  cartilaginem,  nee  pinguia,  nee  carnes,  nee  cms- 
tarn  quidan  fragilem, — nee  qu(£  jure  dicatur  cutis  ; 
sed  medice  cujusdum,  inter  hac  omnia,  naturce  corpus. 
t  Sp^i^b*  El  GfoKOfAow?  ]  You  are  almost  like  the  gods. 
This  certainly  has  the  most  epigram matical  turn  of 
all  the  odes  j  and  from  the  premises,  according  to 
heathen  mythology,  the  poet's  conclusion  is  justly 
drawn. 


'■flV' 


88 


ODE    XLIV. 

ON  HIS  DREAM. 

Asleep  and  easy  once  rcclin'd, 

Methought  I  rose,  had  wings  behind. 

And  quick  andlightly  flew  ; 

When  Cupid,  still  more  wondVous  fleet, 

Though  lead  oppress'd  his  little  feet, 

Pursu'd,  and  caught  me  too. 

What  means  the  vision  ? — surely  this  : 

I  ramble  now  from  bliss  to  bliss, 

From  nymph  to  nymph  around : 

But  one,  attractive  o'er  the  rest. 

Of  all  my  captive  soul  possess'd. 

Will  hold  it  strongly  bound*. 

*  'Em  ruh  Ttfj^.^.tfi.]  I  must  here  give  due  praise 
to  M.  Pauw.  xiis  alteratioa  of  this  line  may,  I 
think,  be  justly  called  a  restoration  :  it  is  rational. 


89 


easy,  clear  :  instead  of  svt  tw%,  he  reads  tvt  tw,  ^. 
How  could  the  poet  say,  tbat  he  might  escape  fronj 
others,  but  would  be  contined  to  this  one  ?  which  of 
the  9ro^V  t,  the  many,  before  mentioned  ?  This,  doubt- 
less, stood  in  need  of  c  orrection  ;  and  the  slight  al- 
teration which  raiav  has  made,  gives  a  fit  answer  to 
the  question  proposed,  and  a  desirable  perspicuity 
to  all  the  ode.  I  wish  that  he  had  omitted  his 
rough  conclusion,  "  the  prattling  of  other  commen- 
''  tators  does  nothing  but  make  him  sick." — 1  should 
have  observed,  that  tw  is  here  put  for  t»»*,  which  i» 
not  without  many  examples. 


sa- 


90 


91 


ODE  XLV. 

ON  THE  ARROWS  OF  CUPID, 
When  Vulcan,  obliging  hisgoddess  of  charms, 
At  Lemnos  had  finished  for  Cupid  some  arms, 
The  queen  in  pure  honey  anointed  them  all : 
But  Cupid  maliciously  mix'd  it  with  gall*. 

*  MiAj — x^^^*  i^cryw.]  This  composition  makes 
the  >At/xi;irn«5o»,  the  bitter-sweets  of  love  ;  an  epithet 
familiar  to  every  poet.  We  have  an  explanation 
of  this  ode  from  our  learned  BaUley,  and  another 
from  M.  Pauw. 

Jaculum,  says  Bentley,  ex  vivo  igne  et  atlierio 
fulgure  constans,  in  Martis  corpus  se  spotite  insinU' 
avity  ct  re  cogmtum  liUuit.  Inde  est  illud  a»oc(mt(x^aiq, 
getnitum  et  suspirium  ducens,  ob  vulnus  scilicet,  et 
ago*  auTo,  talk  quceso ;  quippe  in  intivia  corporis  pene- 
tiaverat.  E^t  vero  avro,  tecum  serva,  ait  Cupido  ir- 
ridenSf  qui  solus  potuit  extra/iere,  sed  noluit. 

Mira,  mira,  cries  Pauvo,  sed  nimis  Heicule  viira; 
quare  ea  capturn  meurn  longe  super  ant,  et  aiiud  re- 
quiro.     Id  autan  ubi  in  aliorum  cotfunentis  r»on  of- 


Now  Mars,  who  exults  in  the  weight  of  his 
lance, 
From  battle  returning,  and  passing  by  chance, 

fendo,  paucis,  quod  res  est,  tibi  exponam,  lector.  Cum 
Mars  teluni  Cupidinis  in  manum  surnsit,  vis  teli  oc* 
culta  stutim  per  poros  se  in  manus  intima  insinuavit, 
eamque  ottini  robore  ita  privavit,  ut  deus  telum  nianu 
neque  sustinere,  ncque  emiitere  potuit;  quia  niovendi 
facultas  d  est,  etpro  manumortua  potiushaberi  debet, 
quampro  man'i.  viva.  Sic  omnia  hie  perspicua  sunt 
et  plana.  Mars  nunc  tenere  debebat  invitus,  cum 
cmteroquin  id  vel  Cupidini  reddere,  vel  imnu  emii- 
tere,  pot  uisset  facile,  Sfc. 

I  cannot  agree  with  Bentley  j  for  he  does  not 
agree  with  mythology.  It  was  never  fabled  that 
Cupid's  arrows  wounded  spontaneously,  and  with- 
out any  force  impressed:  the  bow  was  as  necessary 
to  that  little  deity,  as  to  an  earthly  archer.  Beside, 
our  critic  makes  the  weapon  not  only  pierce  into  the 
hand,  but  run  up  the  arm,  then  tuniing  at  the 
elbow,  pass  through  the  shoulder,  where  changing 
its  direction,  it  proceeds  downward,  in  i)Uima  cor- 
poris, by  which  we  may  suppose  that  he  means  the 
heart.  Thus,  it  is  true  fulgur,  which  never  moves 
in  a  right  line,  but  always  in  different  angles. 
Pauw  tells  us  that  he  has  made  everything  plain 


92 


Observ'd  tht   young   urchin  accoutred,  and 

laugh  *d, 
Deriding  the  boy,  and  the  size  of  his  shaft. 
"  Though  little,"   says  Cupid,    "  it  seems 
to  the  eye, 
**  You'll  find  it  is  heavy : — here,  take  it  and  try." 
Mars  handled^ the  weapon,  nor  thought  of  a 
cheat : 

and  clear  :  but,  in  my  judgement,  he  has  made  no- 
thing but  an  absurd  heap  of  confusion. — Why  are 
the  virulent  effluvia  of  Cupid's  arrow  confined  to 
the  hand  of  Mars?  why  not  taken  up  by  the  ves- 
sels, and  carried  to  the  heart  by  a  natural  course  of 
circulation  ?  If  the  hand  was  senseless,  what  made 
the  god  issue  his  vehement  groans  ?  Why  did  not 
the  weapon  fall  by  its  own  weight,  unless  the  hand, 
instead  of  being  dead,  griped  it  by  the  force  of  a 
strong  convulsion  ?  And  what  pleasure  can  we  sup- 
pose the  tender  queen  of  love  received  on  foresee- 
ing that  poor  Mars  would  become  an  invalid,  and 
lose  the  use  of  a  limb  ?  On  the  whole,  I  think  we 
may  answer  to  Vawx  as  he  does  to  Benilcy,  mira, 
miiUj  scd  nimis  Hercuie  mira  L 


93 

But  Venus  was  pleas'd  when  he  swallow'd  the 

bait. 

**  O  JLove!"  cries  the  warrior,  distracted 

with  pain, 

•'  'Tis  wonderful  heavy  !  O!  take  it  again*." — 

*'  Not  so,"  replies  Cupid:  *'  good  Mars,  you 

must  have  it : 

•*  Pray  call  it  your  own  ;  for  I  heartily  gave  it." 

*  B*^!/.]   This  Ode,  in  my  opinion,  is  no  more 
than  a  trick  of  Cupid,  which  he  plays  by  using  a 
word  of  two  different  senses,  Ba^?  is  literally  heavy, 
figuratively  painful:    and  the  mischief-loving  ur- 
chin, who  never  cpeaks  what  he  thinks  (Ov  ya^  »o"o» 
tom  y.on  ^^iyyrrati,  says  Moschus)  tells  Mars,  that, 
however  small  in  appearance  his  shaft  may  be,  it  is 
in  reality  Qa^.     The  plain  soldier  takes  it  without 
any  suspicion,  to  poise  and  try  the  iieight  of  it  in 
his  hand.     Vtmus  smiles,  well  knowing  that  Mars 
would  be  quickly  in  her  toils;  and  he,  from  the 
contact  of  his  hand  with  the  poisonous  weapon,  be- 
ing immediately  filled  with  the  pains  of  love,  and 
now,  though  too  late,  understanding  the  treache- 
rous scheme  of  Cupid,  exclaims,  "  Oh!  I  confess 


94 


95 


'*  that  it  is  Cagt/,  extremely  painful:  here,  here, 
"  take  it  again !" — "  By  no  means,"  says  Cupid,  de- 
riding  A/// r*  in  his  tumj  "  I  make  you  a  present  of 
*'  it,  and  request  that  you  will  keep  it." — I  leave  the 
critics  to  their  anatomical  and  physical  disquisitions. 


ODE    XVLI. 

ON  AVARICIOUS  LOVE. 

Tis  hard  to  pine  by  Love  oppressed, 
And  hard  to  want  the  flattering  guest; 
But  hardest  is  the  lot,  to  burn 
And  sigh  and  grieve  without  return. 
No  more  has  virtue  pow'r  to  move. 
Nor  sense  can  charm  the  fair  to  love: 
Tis  gold  alone,  whose  conqu'ring  aid 
Attacks  the  heart,  and  wins  the  maid*  1 
O !  may  the  sordid  wretch  be  curs'd. 
Who  priz'd  that  dang'rous  metal  first ! 
Through  it,  fraternal  love  retires, 
And  children  mourn  their  careless  sires. 

*  Aeyvgo,  ^M»8a*r.]  If  lions  were  painters,  says  the 
fable,  the  pictures  of  men,  conquering  lions,  would 
be  extremely  rare. 


96 

Through  it,  what  barb'rous  feuds  arise! 
What  streams  of  blood!  what  endless  sighs! 
And  lovers  too,  yet  more  severe. 
Are  spurn'dby  all  the  venal  fair*. 

*  Ox>t;fx£a0«  oI^jXa»Ti?.]  Why  lovers  In  general? 
The  rich  may  be  lovers  ;  and  such,  according  to  our 
poet,  arc  in  no  danger  of  any  repulse.  I  suppose  we 
must  understand  this  of  poetical  lovers  3  for  the 
Muses  and  Plutiis  have  seldom  been  cordial  friends. 


97 


ODE   LI. 


ON  A  DISCUS  REPRESENTING  VENUS. 


Has  then  some  hand  with  art  divine 
Perform'd  the  beauteous,  bold  design, 
O'er  a  small  disk  contrived  to  grave* 
The  wide-spread  ocean's  ev'ry  wave  ? 

Though  I  am  far  from  judging  this  little  piece 
to  be  correct,  yet  it  contains  some  agreeable  touches. 
We  have  a  pretty  French  print,  entitled  Venus  sur 
les  Eauxy  which  seems  as  if  the  engraver  had  taken 
his  drawing  entirely  from  this  ode.  However, 
Pauiv  calls  \t  futile  tt  ineptum;  and  thoni  proceeds, 
as  usual,  to  correct  it.  Sometimes  the  modest  cri- 
tic informs  us,  that,  if  he  had  been  at  the  elbow  of 
the  poet,  he  would  have  instructed  him  how  to 
write.  For  my  part,  though  it  is  clear  enough  that 
many  of  these  odes  have  been  injured  by  tran- 
scribers, yet,  when  I  can  elicit  any  sense  from  them, 
I  am  satisfied,  and  leave  to  our  critics  their  vague 
conjectures. 

*  Aicrxo;.]  The  discus  was  used  formerly,  as  we  use 


98 


Has  then  some  genius,  heav'nly  taught, 
The  queen  of  charms  completely  wrought  ? 
From  whose  amours  the  bless'd  abodes 
Receiv'd  their  new-born  race  of  gods*. 

Behold,  he  shews  the  fair  undress'd 
Above ;  for  waves  inclose  the  rest. 
See  how  she  moves !  her  hands  divide 
With  graceful  ease  the  swelling  tide ; 
Close  to  her  stroke  apply'd,  declined. 
She  lows  and  leaves  the  wave  behind. 

Now  through  a  surge  her  breast  above 
The  geatle  goddess  seems  to  move. 
As  shines  the  lily's  vivid  hue, 
When  clos'd  in  vi'lets'  dusky  blue, 

a  sledge  or  a  bar  :  it  was  cast  for  a  trial  of  strength, 
and  nui  of  skill.  According  to  i.uatuthius ,  they  made 
it  of  iron  or  stone  j  when  of  iron,  it  went  by  the 
name  of  XoXo?. 

*   Here  l^enus  signifies  the  natural  passion.    See 
Lucretius  and  others. 


99 

So,  in  the  smooth,  encircling  brine, 
Her  charms  celestial  brightly  shine*. 

Mark,  where  Desire  and  Love,  astride 
On  sportive  dolphins,  wanton  ride ! 
How  soft  their  looks !  how  mild  to  view  ! 
How  mild,  yet  how  deceitful  too ! 

Round  the  fair  queen,  the  gathering  fry 
Leap  up,  and  joyous  please  her  eye: 
Around  they  leap,  and  shoot,  and  play, 
Where  Venus  lightly  skims  the  sea. 

*  Aia(paneTa».]  Shines  through.  In  colours,  a  fi- 
gure can  be  represented  as  under  water :  but  to 
suppose  that  it  can  be  so  done  in  metal,  is  rather 
too  violent  a  supposition. 


100 


101 


ODE   LIII. 

ON    THE    ROSE, 

The  blooming  rose,  the  flowVy  prime* 
Of  vernal  sweets,  inspires  a  rhyme. 
Do  you,  my  friend,  the  Muse  obey+. 
In  concert  join,  and  aid  the  lay; 
For  this  the  gods  celestial  breathe; 
This  scent  delights  the  world  beneath; 

*  MiT*  n^?,  ii%>^fro^ai  ^^ot  Sigiwi.]  /  celebrate  the 
suninier-rose,  togethtr  with  the  spring.  If  Sc^Mrov  was 
never  used,  and  I  cannot  say  that  it  was,  to  signify 
e  calyce  protrusus,  or  blown,  as  most  flowers  are  in 
summer,  I  must  leave  the- passage  to  critics,  who 
repair  and  remake,  according  to  their  ditferent  fan- 
cies. 

t  rvr,  ircu^* — k.  t.  A.]  My  friend  assist,  &c.  Da- 
cier  supposes  this  ode  to  be  sung  by  the  poet  and 
his  friend,  alternately :  but  of  such  a  practice  he 
does  not  give  any  example. 


.i.-*aKt"t 


Of  all  the  Graces  this  the  joy, 
And  am'rous  Venus  loves  the  toy. 
Hence  bards  this  subject  fondly  chuse, 

A  grateful  theme  to  ev'ry  Muse 

Sweet  flow'r  to  him  who  lonely  strays 
Through  devious  woods  and  thorny  ways! 
Each  mirthful  banquet,  ev'ry  board, 
And  Bacchus'  feasts,  the  rose  afford. 

What  can  be  done  without  the  rose  P 
Her  rosy  hands  Aurora  shows ; 
The  nymphs  appear  with  rosy  arms ; 
And  Venus  blooms  in  rosy  charms. 

This  healing  plant  hath  pow'r  to  savej 
Or  lends  its  aid  beyond  the  grave*, 
Eludes  ev'n  time's  destructive  rage, 
And  holds  its  grateful  scent  in  aget. 

*  Niif^oi?.]  The  dead.  Venus,  with  rose-oint- 
ment, preserved  the  body  of  Hector. 

t  Tti^u^.]  Did  age.  The  leaves,  pulled  off  and 
dried,  retain  an  agreeable  odour. 


W2 

Sing  now  the  mild,  propitious  hour, 
Which  gave  the  world  this  beauteous  flow'r. 

From  ocean,  kill'd  to  calm  repose. 
When  love's  wide-conqu'ring  queen  arose. 
When  heav'n  and  all  its  pow'rs,  afraid, 
Saw  lab'ring  Jove  produce  a  maid, 
'Twas  then  the  rose,  a  glorious  birth, 
Sprang  from  its  wond'ring  parent,  earth ! 

Now  met  the  gods,  and  merg'd  the  leaves 
Deep  in  their  od'rous  nectar-waves ; 
Gave  the  whole  flow'r  a  splendid  glow. 
And  on  a  thorn-bush  made  it  grow  *. 

*  Aita»e^?.]  J  tlMm.  Here,  I  confess,  we  have  an 
^ri2uus  nats,  after  such  a  flourishing  panegyric! 
How  much  more  poetically  just  is  our  excellent 
Milton,  who  says,  that  in  Paradise,  before  Adamn 
transgression,  were 

FIq^Ws  of  all  hue,  and^  without  thorn,  the  rose. 


lOJ 

ODE   LIV. 

ON  HIMSELF*. 

Join 'd  to  a  young  and  vigVous  choir, 
I  feel  a  youthful,  vig'rous  fire; 
I  feel  warm  blood  through  ev'ry  vein, 
And,  wing'd  by  transport,  dance  again. 
Attend,  and  bring  the  fillets,  maidf ! 
Weave  rosy  chaplets;  crown  my  head: 

*  In  this  ode  we  have,  veluti  descripta  tabella, 
vita  senis — an  accurate  picture  of  the  poet. 

f  KvQnQot.']  Whatever  Pauiv  may  assert  to  the 
contrary,  I  take  Cubeba  to  be  the  name  of  a  servant, 
and  not  of  a  partner  in  the  dance.  Steph.  would 
have  a  different  word,  which  Fauiv  calls  inept issiifui 
lectioy  nuga;  mercc.  As  to  Madame  Dacier,  who 
proposes  to  read  crvrijCa,  he  thinks  that  she  would  do 
well,  if  she  confined  herself  to  the  distaff: — a  most 
uncourtly  critic,  on  a  courtly  poet!  His  words  are, 
niistre  coccutivity  et  ea  scripsit,  quoi  fusum  potius  red" 
okntj  quam  doctas  libroruin  chartas. 


ril  throw  this  cumb'rous  age  away. 

And,  'midst  the  young,  be  young  and  gay. 

O !    let  some  kind  and  gen'rous  friend 
With  Bacchus*  sparkling  juice  attend; 
To  see  what  strength  inspires  a  sage, 
Who  knows  to  dance  in  spite  of  age, 
Who  knows  to  quaff  with  cheerful  ease, 
And  madly  toy,  yet  still  to  please*. 

*  M«w)>ai.]  The  desipere  in  loco  of  Horace,  and 
p^a^icyTw^  |bux>D»ai,  are  perfectly  synonymous  phrases. 


105 


ODE   LV. 


ON  LOVERS. 

The  horse,  we  observe,  has  a  character  on  it; 
And  Parthians  are  guess'd  by  the  shape  of 

their  bonnet: 
So  they,  in  whom  Cupid's  warm passionsabide, 
Are  clearly  distinct  from  all  creatures  beside; 
For  each  has  a  tenderness  easily  known*, 
A  softness  peculiar  to  lovers  alone. 

*  Ttf?  t^mran;,  iJlwK  fn^rruix  iy9v?.]  I  shall  here  dis- 
miss Pa?iWj  having  first  transcribed  his  following 
observation.  Imptissima  ittoicc,  et  inept Issima  com- 
paratio.  An  ^jwtov  illud  xH^-y^"-  ^^  uniantiuin  -i^v^r, 
ita  conspici  poterat,  ut  wv^o?  x°^^y\*-*  2»  equorum 
coxis,  et  tiara  in  Parthorum  capitlbus  ?  An  ex  eo  amcin- 
tes  dignosci  poterant,  eodan  niodo,  quo  ex  tiara  Par- 
thiy  ex  signo  inu&to  equi  ?  Nihil  stultiirs,  nihil  ah  ipsa 
natura  alienius.  Aitamen  bonus  id  diserte  ajiimat 
hie;  simul  ac  videhai  a?tuintes,  notam  illam  tmueni  in 

F  5 


106 


anima  eonun  videre  poterat,  et  ipsum  amorcni  ex  ea  il' 
lico  dignoscere.  Ineptice,  et  ineptice  Tnercc,  qucc  sto- 
machum  mihi  cient.  That  is,  in  few  wordsj  *'  the 
''  ode  is  modern  j  for  the  author  is  an  absurd  mira- 
"  cle-monger,  who  pretends  to  see  into  the  heart 
of  man."  Instead  of  a  reply,  which  such  nonsense 
does  not  merit,  I  shall  only  give  two  quotations. 


X^tnJ/aJ,  <I>Et^(d(, 


Attstyra  T  ahT^a.  t»;  ^viutT  af,  wXjjv  ^yow — k.  t.  ?^. 

All  things,  my  friend,  can  lurk  within. 
But  two;  and  those  are  clearly  seen: 
No  art  or  love  or  wine  belies  j 
They  shine  conspicuous  through  the  eyes. 

Fragm.  Antiph. 

Quamvis  tegatur,  proditur  vultu  furor: 
£rumpit  oculis  ignis  ■ 

Senec.  Hi»pol. 


107 


ODE    LX- 


TO  DIANA. 

Beauteous  progeny  of  Jove,. 
Dian,  goddess  of  the  grove. 
Huntress,  whose  unerring  darts. 
Pierce  the  roes  and  trembling  harts. 
Come,  oh!  come,  propitious  maid! 
Lethe  claims  thy  patron-aid. 
View  the  town  with  friendly  eyes*; 
Mark  their  heart-emitted  sighs  ; 
Let  your  people,  just,  humane  t. 
Favour  hope,  nor  hope  in  vain* 

*  noX»».]  TJtt  city.  Magnesia,  on  the  river  Lethe, 
According  to  CalliniachuSy  Diana  obtained  from  Ju- 
piter thirty  towns,  of  which  she  was  to  be  the  only 
(I  suppose  he  means  principal)  deity. — TgK  ^«xa  to^ 

VToXlzQfiOC X,  T.  A. 

t  Oy  yac^  «»!pEgsj.]  Not  inhuman.     We  have  a 


108 


109 


story  (by  Plutarch,  if  I  do  not  forget)  of  a  poet  who 
celebrated  the  goddess  for  cruelty  and  delight  in 
blood }  to  which  some  auditor  replied,  *'  may  she 
*'  reward  you  with  a  daughter  exactly  of  a  similar 
"  temper."  Our  bard  speaks  a  different  language ; 
his  address  implies  that  Diana  was  pleased  with 
mildness  and  humanity.  Beside,  he  is  so  far  from 
recommending  the  Magnesians  on  account  of  their 
expensive  sacrifices,  (a  practice  of  some  less  judi- 
cious writers) — he  is  so  far  from  boasting  even  of 
their  philanthropy  and  benevolence, — that  he  gives 
them  no  more  than  a  mere  negative  comniendation, 
tfx  arrifjLt^^ — a  modesty  very  proper  on  such  an  oc- 
casion. 


\ 


ODE   LXV. 

ON  GOLD  THE  DESERTER. 

When  gold,  as  swift  as  stormy  wind, 
Flies  off,  and  leaves  me  far  behind, 
I  let  the  traitor  freely  go : 
For  who  would  chuse  to  hunt  a  foe? 

Now  quite  remov'd  the  dang'rous  ore, 
Perplex 'd  with  doubts  and  fears  no  more, 
I  bid  the  gath'ring  blasts  obey, 
And  waft  my  ev'ry  care  away*; 
Then  take  the  long-neglected  lyre, 
And  sing  and  play  to  soft  desire. 

I  have  numbered  this  Ode  according  to  the  edi- 
tion  of  Barnes, 
'*  Thus  Horace: 

•     •    Tristitiam  et  metus 
Tradam  protervis  in  mare  Creticum 
Portare  vends  ■  — .   .    . 


\ 


no 

But,  when  my  soul,  grown  firmly  bold^ 
Unmov'd  can  view  the  charms  of  gold, 
He  quick  returns  in  friendly  guise, 
With  tipsy  mirth,  devoid  of  sighs, 
Returns  intent  to  spoil  my  vein*, 
And  make  me  shun  the  lyre  again. 

How  long,  oh  gold!  wilt  thou  essay 
To  lead  my  vig'rous  mind  astray? 
Above  thy  charms,  I  love  the  lyre, 
And  notes  attun'd  to  soft  desire. 

*  'n?  iAs^(A.V9  >v^^  ytvQifju.l  It  is  an  old  complaint 
that  wealth  is  injurious  to  a  poet.  For^  as  Theocri- 
tus observes, 

'Tis  poverty  awakes  the  various  arts. 

To  shew  gold  at  a  distance,  is  Vatihus  addere  cat-- 

car:  for, 

—  Si  dolosi  spes  refuherit  nimimi, 
Corvos  poetaSy  &c. — —  ■  , 

Wherefore,  says  Pamel, 

If  their  riches  spoil  their  vein. 
Ye  Muses,  make  them  poor  again. 


V 


!1 


111 

Perfidious  ore!  by  your  deceits 
The  lyre  is  mute !  and  Love  retreats. 
'Tis  you  prevent  our  mutual  bliss; 
'Tis  you  disturb  the  sacred  kiss*! 
And  then,  delusive,  treach'rous,  fly 
To  shine  in  some  barbarian  eye ; 
But  first  from  me,  oh  base  design! 
Try  ev'ry  lure  to  fright  the  Nine. 

Know,  that,  'till  death  the  bliss  refuses, 
I'll  touch  the  lyre,  and  court  the  Muses. 
Then  go,  and  cheat,  where'er  you  go, 
The  starving  wretch  with  empty  show. 

*  <I)»^»3ftaT«».]  Kisses.  I  do  not  understand  what 
the  poet  here  means,  unless  he  allude  to  what  he 
formerly  observed,  viz.  that  marriages  are  contract- 
ed for  interest,  not  affection. 


112 

ODE    LXVI. 

ON  THE  SPRJXG. 

How  pleasing  now  to  lightly  tread 
With  devious  steps  the  flow'ry  mead! 
To  feel  soft  Zephyr's  cooling  gale, 
And  all  his  od'rous  breath  inhale! 
How  blooms  the  vine  !  what  easy  pleasure, 
On  shady  banks  to  stretch  at  leisure ! 
And,  o'er  the  rest,  how  doubly  sweet 
A  kind  and  beauteous  nymph  to  meet ! 


"    i 
? 


113 

poet.  That  he  was  light,  easy  and  familiar,  is  sig- 
nified, as  I  think,  by  lusit  Amicreon :  and  non  dc- 
levit  (etas  implies  that  they  were  agreeable  to  every 
palate.  Does  not  the  present  ode  well  justify  the 
opinion  of  Horace  ? 


"1\ 


Scaliger  terms  the  style  of  Anaa-eon  sweeter  than 
sugar  :  Fauw,  who  is  always  as  singular  as  taste- 
leas,  condemns  most  of  the  odes  as  perfect  non- 
sense :  Barnes,  on  the  other  hand,  has  discovered 
sublimity  in  them.  But,  without  citing  a  list  of 
Greek  authors  who  praise  our  bard,  I  think  that 
we  may  safely  rely  on  the  judgement  ofHoract,  that 
Anacreon  was  a  light,  airy,  familiar,  and  agreeable 


! 


-'      .     '.J 


114 


■}'^: 


ODE    LXVII*. 

ON  HIS  OLD  AGE. 

*Tis  past!  my  feeble  nerves  decay! 
My  locks  are  sadly  chang'd  to  grey ! 
Slow  creeps  the  blood  through  ev'ry  vein;. 
No  teeth,  or  useless  teeth,,  remain. 
Invidious  Time  prepares  the  dart, 
And  I,  oh  hapless !  soon  depart +  ! 

♦  This  number  in  Barnes  is  LVI.  but,  as  these 
odes  may  be  numbered  ad  libitinnj  I  place  it  last ; 
for  it  makes  a  just  conclusion  to  a  life  of  ebriety, 
love,  and  dissipation. 

"t  Oyit  iT»  »o?^? — X?'**? — It.  T.  A.]  A  small  portion 
of  life  reniaim.  Suidas  quotes  a  passage  from  Me- 
necrates,  a  comic  poet,  which  may  well  be  applied 
to  the  present  ode. 

Fu^a?,  t'Kai.t  fjiif  ocvvt  vaci;  iv^tTsi%'  »j»  ^i  wot*  iX9:», 

Mi^^JTai — x.T.  ^. 

In  youth,  all  wish  for  length  of  years. 
Yet  blame  their  age,  when  age  appears. 


Mi 
*^  I 


I 


-  -  lit 


il5 

This  bids  my  gath'ring  tears  to  flow  : 
I  dread  the  hideous  scenes  below; 
I  dread  o'er  hell's  uncheerful  coast 
To  flit,  a  wand'ring,  gloomy  ghost; 
Convinc'd  that  he,  whom  Fates  dissever 
From  present  life,  is  gone  for  ever. 


116 

The  following  little  piece,  a  jeu  d*esprit  of  some 
anonymous  writer,  is  added  to  his  edition  of 
Anacreouj  by  the  eminent  Mr.  Barnes. 

EPITIIALAMIUM. 

Fair  Venus ^  queen  of  realms  above! 

And  prince  of  mortals,  conquering  Love ! 

Young  Hymen,  whose  propitious  care 

Renews  the  parent  in  his  heir ! 

You,  pow'rs  divine,  we  joy  to  praise ; 

For  you,  attempt  the  nuptial  lays. 

Thrice  happy  youth !  arise!   arise! 
And  seise  t!ic  partridge  ere  it  flies. 
O  Stratocles,  whom  Venus  loves, 

Whom  fair  Myrilla's  self  approves. 
With  rapture  mark  thy  charming  bride, 
How  fresh  in  beauty's  early  pride  ! 

As,  midst  of  flow'rs,  supremely  glows 
The  blush  of  some  new-op'ning  rose, 


v^ 


117 

Myrilla,  with  celestial  air, 

So  blooms,  a  rose  among  the  fair. 

But  see  !  the  night  has  stol'n  away  ! 
Your  bridal  bed  receives  the  day*! 

«  ^aum,']  Literally,  the  sun  shews  your  bedcham- 
ber. Mr.  Barnes  is  here  scarcely  to  be  pardoned  -, 
he  has  discarded  the  original  word,  and  substituted 
another  of  his  own  without  any  sort  of  authority  j 
though  perhaps  a  reader  may  think  that  the  passage 
is  so  far  from  being  mended,  that  it  suffers  ex- 
tremely by  the  change.  Pro  ^aim,  says  he,  nuilo 
^a»»o»,  ut  congruat  cum  rrt^vKot.  jEnigmatice  rruirem 
MyriU(£  soboltm  optat ;  Apollo  enim,  in  mythologica 
ilia  cum  Hecate  contentlone,  homlnem  protulit.  But 
where  shall  we  find  a  poet,  who,  in  a  panegyric  on 
a  young  beauty,  would  introduce  a  female  monster 
of  hell  ?  What  relation  to  Hecate  has  Myrilla  ?  A 
critic  surely  does  enough,  who  gives  what  he  thinks 
a  correction,  in  his  notes.  Even  admitting  (pa,%w%, 
I  do  not  comprehend  how  it  implies  a  wish  of  male 
offspring,  or  indeed  any  rational  wish  at  all.  Be- 
side, what  appears  incorrect  or  unintelligible  to  one 
commentator,  may  seem  perfectly  correct  and  ob- 
vious to  another. 

Instead  then  of — "  may  the  sun  shew  your  bed- 


lis 


119 


May  cv'ry  joy  on  both  attend, 

Nor  cease  your  joys  till  life  shall  end. 

chamber" — keep  the  original—"  but  the  sun  shews 
your  bedchamber" — and  it  gives  a  clear,  natural, 
easy  thought.  Every  one  knows  that  marriages 
were  not  celebrated,  among  the  Greeks  or  Romans, 
until  evening.  Hence  we  find  the  common  ad- 
dress to  Hesperus,  or  the  evening  star.  In  long 
summer-days,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  Sol 
arose,  before  the  mirth  and  festivity,  usual  on  such 
occasions,  were  entirely  at  an  end  j  wherefore  the 
poet  very  justly  stops  short,  and  observes  to  the 
new  married  couple — but  you  are  too  long  detained 
asunder :  the  sun  is  risen  on  your  hedduimber,  and 
finds  it  is  empty  still.  The  concluding  wish  is  plain 
enough,  but  cannot  bear  a  literal  version. 


> 


Mr.  Barnes  has  collected  twenty  small  produc- 
tions which  he  terms  Epii^rammata  Anacreontis ;  by 
which  he  means  nothing  else  than  inscriptions  j  for 
some  of  them  are  epitaphs,  as 

Here  lies  Timo critus .—^Oh  partial  grave ! 
You  spare  the  coward,  and  destroy  the  brave ! 

Others  are  dedications,  as 

To  Phabus  sacred  hangs  this  faithful  shield, 
Defence  of  P^/^^w  through  the  dang 'rous  field. 

Two  may  be  called  epigrams,  according  to  the 
most  usual  acceptation  of  the  word. 

On  a  brazen  Heifer  by  Myron, 

Away,  ye  herdsmen !  feed  your  herds  apart, 
Unmix'd  vf'ith. Myron's  wond'rous  work  of  art; 
Lest  you  mistake — mistake  you  easy  may — 
And  drive  the  statue  with  the  rest  away. 


On  the  same. 

This  heifer,  sure,  is  chang'd  by  time  alone 
To  brass;  and  Myron  boasts  the  work  his  own. 


120 


121 


We  have  another  little  poem  in  the  collection, 
which  breathes  the  disposition  and  temper  of  our 
elegant  poet :  but  I  know  not  how  to  give  it  a  suit- 
able title;  for  it  is  not  a  dedication,  nor  an  epitaph, 
nor  an  epigram  in  any  sense  of  the  term  j  nor  can 
I  say  that  it  is  a  fragment  3  and  it  is  too  short  for 
an  ode.  However,  as  the  bard  might  have  sung 
and  played  it  in  some  friendly  and  agreeable  com- 
pany, perhaps  we  had  best  call  it  by  the  modem 
name,  a  catch 

I  love  not  him,  who  o'er  his  gen'rous  wine 
With  horrid  wars  our  wounded  ear  assails, 

Buthim,who,charm'd  with  r;?««jandthe  Nine, 
Immixes  sprightly  jests  and  am'rous  tales. 

I  shall  conclude  with  a  few  observations  on  the 
authenticity  of  these  odes. 
1 .  Horace  says  that 

■  — -  dicunt  arsisse  Bnthj/Uo 

Anacrconta  Teinniy 
Sui  persape  cava  testuduie Jievit  amoran,  ifc. 

And  yet,  instead  of  persape,  we  have  not,  on  that 
subject,  one  plaintive  ode  in  the  whole  collection. 


■ti 


2.  It  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  any  po^t.  ex- 
cept a  very  mean  one,  would  disgust  his  reader  with 
a  long  string,  a  oraiabe  rcpttita,  of  songs  on  drink- 
ing, in  which  there  is  not  the  smallest  attempt  at 
any  kind  of  variety.  They  all  seem  as  if  intended 
for  nothing  else  than  so  many  paraphra'^es  on  the 
epitaph  of  Sardanapalus,  as  I  observed  before. 

3.  The  poetical  taste  is  widely  different  in  the 
different  compositions.     E.  g.  The  natural  painter 
of  drunken  man  (Ode  XXVI.)  could  not  be  guilty 
of  that  monstrous  image,  a  drunken,  dancing  bird 
(Ode  IX.)  Who  can  read  Ode  III,  in  which  Cupid 
gains  admittance  to,  and  v/ounds  the  author  by  a  pret- 
ly  device,  and  yet  ascribe  ii  to  the  same  hand  which 
wrote  Ode  LIX  ?  fof  the  latter,  if  not  quite  ridi- 
culous, is,  at  best,  but  a  mean  conceit :   here  the 
poetaster  finds  Cupid  in  some  roses,  seises  him  by 
the  pinions,  sinks  him  in  a  glass  of  wine,  and  drinks 
him  down,  but  is  tormented  by  the  feathers  of  the 
little  archer,  which  tickle  him  so  constantly,  that 
he  cannot  get  any  relief. — ^To  produce  but  one  ex- 
ample more,  out  of  a  large  number  which  might 
be  collected,  the  conclusion  of  a  panegyric  on  the 
grass-hopper  is  just,  terse,  and    epigram matical, 
whereas  the  conclusion  of  that  on  a  rose  entirely 
spoils  the  whole. 

4.  If  to  these  reasons  we  add  that  very  strong 

G 


i 


122 

one,  quoted  from  Suidus  by  all  the  critics,  viz.  that 
Anacreon  uroic  even/  thing  in  the  Ionic  dialect, 
(which  can  by  no  means  agree  with  the  present 
collection),  it  seems  highly  probable  that  time  has 
left  us  but  a  small  portion  of  his  genuine  odes,  and 
that  most  of  those,  now  ascribed  to  our  cheerful 
bard,  should  be  called  Anacreontics  only,  or  imita- 
tions of  that  elegant  poet. 


1 


TRANSLATIONS, 

IMITATIONS, 


SfC.   SfC. 


} 


11 


TRANSLATIONS, 


8(C, 


FROM    BION. 

IDYLLIUM  II. 

A  SPORTING  boy,  in  hopes  to  find 
And  catch  in  traps  the  feath'ry  kind^ 
Went  to  a  thick  and  devious  grove. 
Where  little  birds  were  us'd  to  rove. 
There,  as  he  watch'd,  he  chancM  to  set 
Young  Cupid  perching  on  a  tree: 
The  boy  observ'd,  with  joyful  eyes. 
How  large  the  bird,  how  rich  the  prize. 


1C6 

Now,  all  his  traps  securely  bound*. 
He  mark*d  the  archer  flutt'ring  round. 
At  length,  grown  tir'd,  and  vex'd  at  heart, 
That  vain  and  useless  prov'd  his  art. 
He  went  and  brought  a  friendly  sage, 
From  whom  he  learn'd  to  make  a  cage, 
Show'd  him  the  wondrous  bird,  and  hovr 
It  perch'd,  quite  careless,  on  a  bough. 
The  sire  look'd  at  it,  gently  smil'd. 
And  thus,  in  kindness,  warn'd  the  child : 
**  Forbear,  my  child  !  retire  in  haste. 
Nor  wish  to  catch  that  dang'rous  beast. 
Live  free  and  easy  while  you  can  ; 
For,  when  you  gain  the  size  of  man, 

*  Tvq  i(.0L>.xfA<MK,  oLuia  wa»T<x?,  X.  X.]  Joining  all  the 
reedsy  (traps)  &c.  in  order  to  make  one  large  enough 
to  contain  so  great  a  bird  j  for  we  must  suppose  that 
the  young  bird-catcher's  traps  were  prepared  before 
he  came  from  home. 


t 


r  I 


127 

Good  cause  you'll  find,  the  beast  to  dread: 
Unask'd,  he'll  seise  your  anxious  head*." 

•  Ki^aXar  i-jr*  ffM  *»6»|«.]  He  mil  sit  on  your  head. 
The  old  poets  seat  love  in  the  liver,  or  in  the  heart  j 
but  if  imagination  is  resident  in  the  semonum,  then 
all  the  passions  must  abide,  of , consequence,  in  the 
head. 


"^  J 


ie8 


129 


BIOX. 

IDYLLIUM  VI. 

CLEODAMUS  AND  MYRSON, 

CLEODAMUS. 

Since  here  we  sit,  of  leisure  hours  possessed, 
Tell  me  which  season  charms  you  o'er  the  rest : 
Do  summer  scenes  your  chief  attention  gain. 
Which    yield    some  respite    to    the    lab 'ring 

swain*? 
Perhaps  rich  autumn  charms  your  fancy  more. 
When  want  is  banish'd  from  our  country  store: 
Love  you  the  winter?  does  your  wish  require 
To  chat  at  ease  before  a  social  fire  ? 

•  Ploughing,  &c.  being  over,  and  harvest  not 
begun. 


^^ff^^^ 


Or  in  spring's  beauty  do  you  most  rejoice  ? 
Speak,  now,  what  season  claims  your  fav'ring 
voice  ? 


MYRSON. 

We  must  not  blame  the  works  which  heav'n 

designed; 
For  each  is  useful  in  its  different  kind. 
Howe'er,  I'll  tell,  my  friend,  at  your  request, 
Of  all  the  seasons,  which  I  judge  the  best. 
I  love  not  summer  :   from  its  stifling  heat*, 
We  pant  for  shade,  and  languidly  retreat. 
Autumnal  months  I  cannot  justly  praise  : 
The  fruits  they  give  us,  give  severe  disease. 
Who  of  the  bleak  and  wint'ry  months  can  boast  ? 

*  'ax»o;  09rT»?.]   The  sun  burns  me.    This  complaint 
belongs  not  to  us,  but  to  the  southern  poets. 

O  !  qui  me  gel  id  is  in  va  I  lib  us  Hanii 

Sistat,  tt  ingenti  ramorum  protegat  umbra !     Virg. 

6  5 


130 

I  dread  the  snow  ;  I  dread  pernieious  frost- 
O  !  that  fair  spring  alone  would  form  the  year, 
When  neither  snows  nor  shiv'ring  frosts  appear! 
In  spring  all  nature  blooms  supremely  gay, 
And  length  of  night  is  equal'd  by  the  day*. 

*  Svi  a>0^«woK7»»  »cra,  k.  X.]  Niglu  and  day  arc 
equal.  Equinox,  succeeding  the  gloomy  and  short 
days  of  winter,  is  doubtless  extremely  grateful  ;  but, 
in  our  latitude,  to  survey  the  works  of  Nature,  as 
they  are  vulgarly  called,  on  a  fair,  long  summer's 
morning,  as  well  as  at  and  after  sunset  in  the  even- 
ing, is  perfectly  delightful  to  a  considerate  mind. 

The  questions  and  answers  contained  in  this  idyl- 
lium  have  such  a  natural  simplicity,  as,  in  my  judge- 
ment, is  well  suited  to  pastoral  writing. 


131 


FROM  MOSCHUS. 

IDYLLIUM  I. 

LOVE,    THE   DESERTER. 

Ye  swains,  cry'd  Venus,  if  ye  chance  to  see 
A  rambling  Cupid,  he  belongs  to  me. 
Who  finds  him,  merits  an  ambrosial  kiss ; 
Who  back  conducts — a  more  substantial  bliss*. 
These  marks  will  show  him :  fi'ry  are  his  eyes; 
And  honey 'd  speech  a  treach'rous  heart  belies. 
Provok'd,  he  grows  implacable ;  the  boy 
Has  something  cruel  in  his  ev'ry  joy. 
His  little  hands  immensely  far  can  throw. 
And  pierce  the  monarch  of  the  realms  below. 


Huic  aliiid  mercedis  erit  • 


Vi 


rg- 


132 


133 


His  skin  is  naked,  with  a  careless  air  ; 
But  deep  his  schemes, and  hid  with  anxious  care. 
From  sea  to  sea  he  flies,  from  land  to  land, 
And  in  the  bosom  takes  his  fav'rite  stand. 
Though  small  the  arrows,small  thebow  of  Love, 

He  oft  severely  wounds  the  pow'rs  above. 
His  tears  are  dang'rous;  dang'rous  are  his  smiles. 
Bind  fast  the  cheat :  his  ev'ry  act  beguiles. 
The  golden  quiver  fi'ry  shafts  contains, 
And  I  have  felt  them  rankling  in  my  veins  r 
All,  all  are  cruel!   Swains,  be  cautious!  shun 
His  little  torch  !  its  flame  outburns  the  sun. 
Where'er  the  villain  lurks,  if  haply  found. 
To  me  produce  him,  but  securely  bound. 
His  lips,  though  ofFer'd  you  in  friendly  guise, 
Reject !  in  each  a  secret  poison  lies. 
Should  he  say,  *'  take  my  arms,"  his  base  desire 
Escape i  for  all  are  tipp'd  with  deadly  fire. 


yi 


(M 


t 


MOSCHUS. 

IDYLLIUM  VI. 

A  BABBLING  Echo  Pan  admir'd;  and  she, 
A  skipping  Faun ;  and  beauteous  Lyda  he. 
As  Pan  his  Echo,  so  the  nymph  desir'd 
Her  Faun,  who  Lyda's  stubborn  heart  requir'd. 
Thus  each  revenge  in  turn  to  each  supply'd, 
Lov'd  those  who  hated,  and  who  loy'd  deny'd. 
Ye  gentle  fair,  not  yet  inclined  to  know 
What  secret  joy  from  ties  connubial  flow, 
Regard  your  swains  alone  who  fondly  burn  ; 
Their  grateful  hearts  will  love  for  love  return* 


THE 


NUPTIAL  POEM 


OF 


CATULLUS. 


YOUTHS. 


Mark,  youths,  where  Hesper  shows  his  beau- 
teous lightj 
And,  long  expected,  gilds  the  dusky  night ! 
Quit,  then,  your  flowing  bowls,  nor  idly  stay ; 
The  ready  bride  demands  a  nuptial  lay. 

Hymtn !  0  Hymen  !  lend  your  patron  ear  ! 

Hymen !  propitious  to  our  feast  appear  I 


MAIDS. 


See,  maids,  the  choir  of  youths!  Their  verse 
oppose. 


/ 


a 


^> 


155 

Now  spacious  heav'n  with  fires  CEtaean  glows : 
See,  how  they  spring  impatient!   Maids,  arise. 
And,  from  their  joint  exertions,  bear  the  prize. 
Hymen !  0 Hymen !  &c. 

YOUTHS. 

No  easy  palm  awaits,  O  friends,  the  verse, 
When  maids  their  parts  with  studious  care  re- 
hearse ; 
Nor  vain  their  study  seems ;  each  well-turn'd 

line. 
Exactly  polish'd,  will  be  half  divine. 
Care  gives  a  conquest :  we  shall  lose  the  bays. 
Whose  ears  and  fancies  rove  through  difF'rent 

ways.. 
Then,  more  attentive,  let  us  bravely  vie  : 
The  maids  begin,  and  we  in  turn  reply. 
Hymen !  0 Hymen !  &c. 


.^] 


}36 


137 


MAIDS. 

Is  there,  Hke  Hesperus,  a  star  severe,. 
Which  from  her  home  secludes  a  trembling 

fair — 
\yhich  gives  to  ardent  youth  such  heav'nly 

charms, 
Rent  from  a  mother's  soft  encircling  arms? 
What  act  more  cruel  can  a  town  deform, 
Which  foes  have  enter "^d  by  a  furious  storm  ?, 
Hymen !  0 Hymen !  &c, 

YOUTHS. 

Is  there,  like  Hesperus,  a  star  benign, 

Which  in  firm  compact  joins,  with  rites  di- 
vine? 

Our  friends  may  previous  meet,  our  sires 
agree  ; 

But  all  the  dear  conclusion  leave  to  thee ; 


'^ 


What  can  or  youth  receive,  or  heav'nly  powV 
Bestow,  superior  to  the  joytul  hour  ? 
Hymen!  0 Hymen!  &c. 


MAIDS. 


'-      S 


Hesper,0  maids,  now  Steals  our  gentle  friend — 
Thy  dread  approach  the  sleepless  watch  attend; 
All  thieves  in  darkness  lurk,  with  treacherous 

aim. 
Whom  you  detect,,  when  calTd  a  diff'rent 

name*. 
Hymen!  0 Hymen!  &c. 

YOUTHS. 

Yes,  fav'rite  star !  all  love  your  nightly  fire  : 
But  maids  calumniate  what  their  souls  desire. 
Hymen!  0 Hymen!  &c. 

*  In  the  morning  called  Phosphorus,  or  Lucifer, 


138 

MAIDS. 

As  in  a  garden  springs  a  lovely  flowV, 
Which  ploughs  nor  bruise,  nor  hungry  flocks 

devour ; 
Through  its  bright  leaves  while  Zephyrs  gently 

play. 
And  Sol  confirms  them  with  his  genial  ray ; 
Admir'd  by  all,  it  blooms  supremely  fair. 
Of  youths   the  passion,    and  of  maids  the 

care. 
But  should  some  hand,  with  more  than  im- 
pious force, 
The  stalk  nutritious  from  the  flow'r  divorce. 
It  droops ;  it  fades ;  its  ev'ry  charm  retires : 
No  nymph  approves  it,  and  no  swain  desires. 
So  fares  the  beauty  ;  while  a  sprightly  maid, 
By  nymphs   she 's  honour'd,   and   by  swains 
obey'd  ; 


139 

But  if  in  wedlock  snar*d  through  specious  lore. 
The  maids  reject  her,  and  no  youths  adore; 
Hymen!  0 Hymen!  &c. 


YOUTHS. 

As,  in  some  field,  neglected  grows  the  vine^ 
Nor  boasts  a  purple  flood  of  gen'rous  wine ; 
Unprun'd,  confus'd,  and  grov'ling  on  the  plain 
It  lies,  a  cumbrous  nuisance  to  the  swain ; 
But,  when  its  boughs  on  vigorous  elm  rely. 
The  plant,  now  fruitful,  pleases  ev'ry  eye. 
So  the  weak  virgin,  who  untouched  appears, 
May  dully  move  from  youth  to  wrinkling  years; 
But  if,  in  time,  she  yields  to  nuptial  rites. 
Her  sire  and  bridegroom  feel  unknown  delights* 
Youthen,  fair  nymph, consent!  Theam'rous 
boy 
From  pow'r  parental  hopes  the  secret  joy.^ 


■■f~J 


140 

Nor  think  a  virgin  sole  commands  her  heart ; 

The  father  claims,  the  mother  claims,  a  part : 

Those  for  the  youth  their  sev'ral  shares  design; 

Then  add  to  theirs,  O  beauteous  maiden,  thine. 
Hymen!  0  Hymen!  lend  your  patron  earl 
Hymen!  propitious  to  our  feast  appear! 


-      i 


,-'? 


"iM 


A  FAMILIAR  IMITATION 

OF 

HORACE. 

Lib.  i,  Epist.  4. 

Since  you,  my  friend,  without  a  courtly  sneer, 
Can  sit  on  oak,  and  feast  on  country  cheer, 
To  supper  come,  and  come  in  easy  guise. 
Ere  Phoebus  sets,  or  noxious  damps  arise. 

Light  is  my  claret ;  ***  is  strictly  true  ; 
Th*  importer  he,  the  vintage  fifty-two. 
For  meat,  the  brook  can  eels  and  trouts  supply, 
My  barn  a  chicken,  and  my  doves  a  pie. 
Add  that  Pomona,  o'er  vicarial  land, 
Her  fruits  diffuses  with  a  bounteous  hand. 
If  more  than  such  your  better  tithes  afford, 
Dress  when  you  please;  and  I  '11  attend  the  board; 
If  not,  your  fav'rite  Chillingworth  resign. 


142 

For  social  converse,  harmless  mirth,  and  wine. 
Since  this  fair  eveprecedesth'auspiciousmorn, 
On  which,  thank  heav'n,  our  George  the  good 

was  born. 
We'll  sit,  uncensur'd,  chat  the  hours  away, 
Till  light  appears,  then  grateful  toast  the  day. 
Plagu'd  with  no  doubts,  unanxious  for  an  heir, 
Free  from  lean  av'rice,  and  the  frown  severe, 
Be  mine  to  quaff,  or  stretch  in  careless  ease ; 
And  fools  may  call  me  thoughtless,  if  they 

please. 
What  cannot  wine  perform  ?  Its  genial  fire 
To  am'rous  youth  restores  the  tott'ring  sire ; 
It  arms  the  coward  hand,  revives  the  brave, 
Strikes  off  his  fetters  from  the  lab 'ring  slave ; 
Nay,  bids  ev'n  B***y  fearless  ope  the  door. 
And  give  (strange  pow*r!)  one  farthing  to  the 
poor ! 


•     143 

Though  little  cost  adorns  my  friendly  treat, 
At  least  the  furniture  is  plainly  neat : 
Each  knife,  well  whetted,  cuts  exactly  keen; 
In  each  bright  dish  your  face  is  clearly  seen ; 
The  cloth  is  fair  as  Kitty's  wondrous  breast : 
And  all  may  satisfy  an  easy  guest. 
Nor  dread,  my  friend,  to  see  a  motley  train 
Of  clam'rous  blockheads,  or  of  pertly  vain: 
I  hate  disputes,  and  hold  this  gen'ral  rule, 
'Tis  fretful  labour  to  oppose  a  fool. 
No  barrister,  who,  joy'd  himself  to  hear. 
Refuses  quarter  to  the  wounded  ear ; 
Who  — in  the  hall,  unworthy  of  a  part  — 
To  spoil  good  liquor,  keeps  his  terms  of  art : 
No  rev'rend  doctor,  with  important  face. 
Who  palms  stupidity  for  heav'nly  grace ; 
O'er  whose  broad  head  fat  waves  unwieldy  flow, 
Impartial  emblems  of  the  brains  below ; 


'■tv 


iij-.^s' 


\ 


144 

Who  in  polemics  shows  Herculean  pow'r, 
When  not  oppos'd,  and  dulls  the  festive  hour : 
None  such  expect:  — I'll  bid  a  sprightly  few. 
Or  leave  the  choice  of  company  to  you. 
These  are  my  terms:  if  grateful  these,  attend, 
And  quit  a  wife,  one  night,  to  please  a  friend. 


145 


'V 


■  .JrV 


f 


:M-i 


FROM    THE    SAME    AUTHOR. 
Lib.  i,  Epist.  10. 

Health  to  my  friend,  if,  midst  of  odious 
smells 

t 

And  putrid  air,  the  goddess  safely  dwells. 
You  love  a  city,  I  a  country  scene, 
The  devious  wood,  the  grot,  the  flowVy  plain. 
In  this  your  taste  seems  oddly  formed  to  me ; 
In  all  things  else  our  twin-like  souls  agree. 
At  town  I  sicken,  pine,  am  scarce  alive, 
But,  fann'd  by  od'rous  gales,  again  revive. 
I  hate  your  feasts,  and,  like  some  priest,  lament, 
Who  spurns  at  turbot  near  the  close  of  lent. 

Suppose  that  Nature's  uncrroneous  voice 
Led  you  unbiass'd  in  your  ev'ry  choice, 

H 


146 


( 


147 


Where  would  you  build?   what   site  would 

justly  please, 
With  freedom,  health,  content,  and  virtuous 

ease  ? 
Such  joys  (nor  partial  think  them  meanly  small) 
The  fields  must  give,  if  man  receives  at  all. 
No  dog-day  scorches  here :  the  sultry  hour 
Is  pass'd  unheeded  in  a  friendly  bow'r: 
Nor  frost  disturbs  us,  of  our  health  secure ; 
For,  if  intense,  *tis  here  intensely  pure. 
Think  you,  the  ponded  water,  tasteless,  dead. 
Or  creeping  slow  through  half-chok'd  pipes 

of  lead, 
As  ours,  is  pleasant,  or  as  brightly  shines, 
Which  gives  you  music,  as  itself  refines? 
Or  glow  the  carpet-dies  as  richly  gay 
As  Nature's  vivid  blooms  in  flow'ry  May  ? 
Plead  as  you  will  for  grandeur,  pomp,  and  art, 


X 


I  ( 


A  taste  for  Nature  lurks  in  ev'ry  heart ; 
With  joy  your  cits  inhale  a  country  breeze; 
Their  Sunday-walks  do  justice  to  the  trees. 

Securer  he,  unconscious  of  deceit, 
Who  trusts  attorneys  with  his  whole  estate. 
Than  hewlio,judging  like  the  senseless  throng. 
Confounds  the   difF'rent   paths   of  right  and 
wrong. 

Methlnks  I  see  you,  fool'd  by  court  grimace. 
Admire  the  candour  of  His  faithless  Grace ; 
So  easy,  so  familiar,  you  and  he. 
Promotion  follows  in  a  large  degree. 
*' Indeed  he sjnilei' — Experience  wisely  trust — 
He  leers  on  all,  but  falsely  on  the  just. 
Frowns  might  his  pains  or  malice  clearly  tell ; 
But  smiles  inform  you,  that — the  man  is  well. 
Know  then,  from  such,  (nor  vainly  moreapplyj 
The  mark  of  friendship  is  a  barbarous  lie. 


UB 


n 


149 


*'  l^eil!  but  he  promised" — This  your  safety  ? 

Pray, 
Arc  you  expert,  at  cards  and  dice  to  play  ? 
What  slut,  what  fav'rite  pimp,  your  cause  he- 
friends  ? 
What  votes  have  you,  to  serveHisGrace's  ends? 
**  Does  then  no  worth  support  my  fond  desire  ?" 
It  does,  I  grant;  so,  timely,  friend,  retire. 
Worth  !  he  regards  it  as  a  frightening  elf, 
And  hates  the  obvious  contrast  to  himself. 
Your  humble  cot  and  frugal  country  store 
Suffice  for  Nature  :  learn  to  ask  no  more. 
Return,  unruin'd  yet ;  attend  your  land; 
Drain,    till,    improve,    and    heav'nly    peace 

command ; 
Then  sit,  and  laugh  (for  cause  you'll  quickly 
find) 

At  all  the  dangling  slaves  you  left  behind. 


J  I 


f\ 


For  me,  if  e'er  the  chase  of  flatt'ring  gold 
You  find  me  urge,  though  reason  warns  to 

hold, 
In  turn  correct,  avert  the  deadly  blow, 
Plain  as  a  friend,  and  sharply  as  a  foe. 

Here  on  a  tomb,  adorn'd  in  ancient  style. 
Where  Gothic  art  once  form'd  a  costly  pile. 
Where  faithless  stones  now  scarcely  name  the 

dead. 
And  plaintive  redbreasts  warble  o'er  my  head  ; 
Where  ivy'd  oaks  a  friendly  shade  diffuse. 
And  all  with  sober  thoughts  inspire  the  Muse, 
I  sit  and  write,  to  anxious  care  unknown, 
And  nothing  want  but  your  ret urji  alone. 


M 


■•*■.- ^ 


150 


♦nKYAIAOr  nOlHMA. 
THE 

ADMONITORY  POEM 

OF 

PHOCYLIDES. 

Shun  furtive  marriage ;  shun  the  base  desire 
Of  male  embraces  :  ev'ry  fraud  refuse; 
Nor  stain  with   human   blood  your  impious 

hands. 
Live  on  the  fruits  of  care  ;  enjoy  your  own, 
Nor  sigh  for  riches   purchas'd  with  injustice. 
Lies  are  mean  arts  :  let  every  word  be  truth. 
Serve  the  Great  Cause  of  all,  admire,  adore  ; 
And  parents  honour  in  the  next  degree. 
With  Justice  walk;  nor  from  her  sacred  path 


4         < 


1 


M 


<i 


151 

Should  fear  or  favour  turn  your  steps  aside. 
Despise  not  poverty,  nor  judge  severe 
Of  form  exterior  :  know,  the  Pow'r  Divine 
Impartial  views  it,  and  will  judge  the  judge. 
Abhor  false  witness :  keep  virginity*: 
Speak  what  is  honest,  and,  in  all,  be  faithful. 
Give  weight  abundant,  nor  impel  the  beam 
To  sink  fallacious  as  your  hand  requires. 
Shun  perjury,  designed  or  undesign'dt ; 
For  heav*n  observes,  and  hates  the  perjur'd 

villain. 
Steal  not  seed-corn ;  and  pay  the  lab'ring  hind 
His  wages  well-deserv'd ;  nor  vex  the  poor. 
Guide  the  rude  tongue :  do  injury  to  none ; 
And  stay  the  hand  which  means  it  to  another. 

•  i.  e.  until  marriage  3  for  the  poet  thinks  celibacy 
a  preternatural  state. 

t  As  by  swearing  to  do  something,  which  after- 
ward is  forgotten  or  neglected. 


152 


^1 


153 


Bid  not  the  starveling  beggar  come  to-morrow: 
Relieve  the  indigent :  receive  the  stranger 
With  open  arms,  and  lead  the  helpless  blind. 
Pity  the  shipwreck'd  :  he  who  tempts  the  sea 
Deserves  it  well,  as  ev'ry  hour  in  danger. 
Think  that  misfortunes  are  the  lot  of  all : 
Life  is  a  wheel,  and  happiness  unstable. 
If  thou  art  rich,  thank  heav'n  which  freely  gave, 
And  give  as  freely  to  thy  wanting  neighbour. 
Let  all  be  harmony,  and  peace,  and  love. 
Use  not  the  sword  ;  but,  if  it  must  be  drawn. 
In  self-defence  employ  it.    I  could  wish 
The  wasting  blade  were  never  seen  at  all. 
You  kill  an  encmv !  but  hath  not  he, 
Who  kiird  an  enemy,  destroy'd  a  man, 
And  thus  embru'd  his  deadly  hands  in  blood  ? 
Move  not  your  neighbour's  land-mark,  nor  his 
fruits 


.1 


^\ 


< 


•^ 


■;v.^„;^ 


^.- 


Malicious  hurt,  nor  spoil  his  rising  crop. 
Treat  ev'ry  stranger  like  a  citizen  ; 
For  most  have  felt  the  stings  of  poverty. 
Wealth  is  a  fatal  lure,  and  avarice 
The  fruitful  piarent  of  unnumber'd  vices. 
O  gold !  thou  head  of  ills !  thou  cankVing 

sore 
Of  human  life!  how  doth  my  soul  repine 
That  mortals  love  thee,  precious,  shining  cheat ! 
From  thee  what  wars,  what  slaught'ring  feuds, 

arise ! 
Thou  turn'st  the  course  of  Nature,  bidd*st  the 

son 
With  impious  enmity  pursue  the  sire. 
And  raak'st  a  brother  rise  against  a  brother ! 

Speak  honest  truth,  and  scorn  the  subterfuge 
Of  mental  reservation;  nor  appear 
A  polypus,  and  change  in  ev'ry  site. 

H  5 


i 


f^. 


154. 

Base  is  the  man  who  with  premeditation 
Unjustly  acts  ;  but  whom  necessity 
Compels  to  frauds,  is  but  a  partial  knave. 
In  ev'ry  deed,  consider  the  design. 
Swell  not  with  pride  for  wisdom,  strength,  or 

riches: 
Mortals  have  none  to  boast:  one  Pow*r  alone 
Is  rich,  omniscient,  and  omnipotent. 
Tis  vain  to  grieve  at  evils  which  are  past ; 
For  what  is  done  can  never  be  recalFd. 
Restrain  your  hand,  and  bridle  furious  anger ; 
For,  when  indulg'd,  it  gives  a  loose  to  blows, 
And  murder  follows  oft,  though  undcsign'd. 
Be  kind  and  humble  :   luxury  begets 
Immoderate  desires  ;  and  opulence 
Is,  in  its  nature,  haughty  and  disdainful. 
The  virtuous  emulate,  and  not  the  bad. 
A  steadv  purpose  much  assists  the  honest. 


si*-  -; 


'     1--''   ^-«w 


155 

But  makes  the  villain  worse.     Let  venery, 
Which  brings  disgrace,  give  way  to  love  of 

virtue. 
Eat,  drink,  and  speak,  do  all  in  moderation. 
Excesses  shun,  and  keep  the  golden  mean. 
Free  from  dark  envy  live :  superior  pow'rs, 
Pleas'd  with  their  stations,  envy  not  each  other. 
Look    round  the  world;   obseive   the  pallid 

moon; 
She  envies  not  the  fun's  all-glorious  orb : 
This  earth,  unenvious,  humbly  views  the  heav'n 
Stretch'd  far  above  her:  all,  content,  agree. 
Should  discord  actuate  the  pow'rs  divine, 
This  whole  creation  must  at  once  be  ruinM. 

Live  temperate  :  avoid  obscenity : 
Nor  study  deep  revenge;  for  soft  persuasion 
Bids  strife  to  cease :  but  strife  engenders  strife. 
Trust  not  too  soon ;  but  ever  mark  the  end. 


£      AJ. 


156 


157 


Outdo  the  kind  in  kindness.    Tis  far  better 
To  treat  a  stranger  with  immediate  welcome, 
Though  frugal,  than  with  formal,  feign'd  de- 
lays. 
Be  not  to  poverty  an  usurer. 
Let  none  attempt,  who  rob  a  nest  of  young, 
To  seise  the  parent  bird,  but  give  her  liberty; 
And  other  future  broods  shall  pay  the  ransom. 
'Tis  not  the  office  of  a  fool  to  judge : 
Let  wise  teach  wisdom,  artists  teach  their  arts. 
He  can't  improve,  who  cannot  learn  to  hear. 
Flee  the  base  sycophant;  nor  think  to  find 
A  friend  in  him  who  loves  thy  board  alone. 
And  serves  the  time,  insatiably  rapacious. 
Trust  not  the  crowd :  the  crowd  is  ever  various, 
Like  fire  and  torrents,  not  to  be  restrain'd. 
Ev'n  in  devotion  chuse  the  middle  way. 
Entomb  the  dead,  nor  impious  tear  the  graves 


'  I 


«#".: 


-t.f.    ,: 


^!)T^« 


Of  those  who  rest  in  peace.    The  sua  abhors 

So  foul  a  sight ;  and  heav'nly  vengeance  fol- 
lows. 

Touch  not  their  poor  remains ;  for  Hope  de- 
clares 

That  man  shall  rise  from  earth  to  liight  again. 

Survive  his  earthly  spoils,  and  live  immortal. 

Souls  bloom  corruptless,  though  the  frames  de- 
cay, 

Breath'd  from  the  Godhead  in  the  form  of  God. 

Our  bodies,  shap'd  of  dust,  to  dust  return*; 

*  Some  heathen  philosophers  acknowledged  the 
immortality  of  spirit,  but  considered  the  body  as  a 
prison  or  sepulcre  which  impeded  the  force  and 
activity  of  the  soul.  Revelation  hae  opened  to  us 
a  different  scene:  the  body  must  be  raised,  and 
again  connected  with  spirit :  for  experience  seems 
to  prove,  and  Scripture  is  far  fronsn  contradicting 
it,  that  neither  our  bodies  nor  s|  >irits  can  possibly 
act  divisim.  Now,  since  ineffable  goodness  intends 
us  for  eternal  happiness,  not  by  t  otally  altering  and 


158 


159 


But  the  free  spirit  soars  aloft  to  heav*n. 

Where  is  the  use  of  riches  to  a  mortal 

Who  cannot  bear  his  hoarded  heaps  away  ? 

The  stroke  of  death  makes  ev'ry  station  equal; 

But  Heav'n  disposes  of  the  soul  at  pleasure. 

A  king  shall  boast  his  regal  pomp  no  more  : 

The  starveling  beggar,  ev'ry  vulgar  dead, 

Must  join   his   side,   and   use   one   common 

mansion. 

Bofn  but  to  die,  these  bodies  soon  decay ; 

Yet,  in  perpetual  vig'rous  youth,  the  soul 

Survives  her  prison,  and  for  ever  blooms. 

Nor  fortune  prosp'rous  should  exalt  the  mind, 

Nor  adverse  damp  it.     Serve  necessity  : 

new  modeling  human  nature,  but  by  rendering  the 
corruptible  part  of  us  incorrvptible,  we  may  per- 
ceive, if  the  expression  be  allowable,  the  necessity  of 
a  resurrection.  St.  Paul  does  not  put  the  question, 
wherefore,  but  in  what  rnanna\  or  how,  is  the  body 
to  be  revived  at  the  general  day  of  judgement  ? 


\\ 


A\ 


'Tis  vain  to  blow  thy  breath  against  a  storm. 
Bless'd  is  the  man  whom  powerful  words  attend; 
For  reason  conquers  more  than  conqu'ring 

steel. 
The  plastic  Cause  has  furnished  all  with  arms: 
Birds  have  their  wings,  the  lion  nerves  robust; 
The  steer  presents  his  horns;  the  little  bee 
Hides  a  sharp  sting;  but  man  above  them  all 
Exults  in  reason,  as  his  strong  defence. 
Strength  must  submit  to  wisdom ;  wisdom  tills 
The  fruitful  country,  builds  the  stately  towns, 
And  guides  a  vessel^hrough  the  boist'rous  sea. 
Hide  not  delinquents  from  their  due  desert; 
For  oft  the  stroke  of  vengeance  hits  the  jus 
When  'midst  the  wicked,  nor  with-holds  the 

blow. 
Shun  what  is  stol'n ;  for  who  the  theft  receives* 
Maintains  the  fraud,  and  is  himself  a  thief. 


i60 


161 


Give  each  his  own :  of  future  want  beware. 
Your  cattle  fodder  with  a  bounteous  hand ; 
And,  if  a  beast  should  in  the  road  be  fall'n, 
Upraise  it,  though  an  enemy's  possession. 
Assist  the  wand'rer  :  sure  'tis  worthy  praise, 
Instead  of  enmity,  to  gain  a  friend. 
Prevent  a  growing  evil :  heal  a  wound. 
Eat  not  what  beasts  have  torn ;  but  let  the  dogs 
Receive  such  offals:  beasts  should  beasts  de- 


You  dine  reproachless  when  the  board  *s  your 


vour. 


Abstain  from  pois'nous  arts  and  sorcery. 
Treat  the  soft  infant  with  a  gentle  hand. 
Sedition  hate.     The  man  may  sow  the  ocean 
Who  hopes  return  of  kindness  from  the  wicked. 
Your  hands  should  minister  to  ev'ry  want,  as 

sloth 
Is  ever  prone  to  theft ;   nor  basely  wait 
To  catch  the  fragments  of  another's  table. 


own. 


Bred  to  no  useful  art,  employ  the  spade. 
This  world  affords  variety  of  scenes 
Which  give  a  choice  for  labour.  View  the  sea; 
How  spacious  is  it,  if  you  love  to  sail ! 
For  tillage,  see  how  widely  spread  the  fields! 
Man  should  from  labour  hope  his  ev'ry  meal; 
For  ev'n  the  pow'rs  celestial  have  employs ; 
And  Toil  is  Virtue's  immemorial  friend. 
Learn  from  the  ant :  she  leaves  her  humble 

cell. 
When  now  the  fields,  new -shorn,*  have  stor'd 

the  barns, 
And  wide  expatiates  In  laborious  search 
Of  little  grains.     Pleas'd  with  her  cumb'rous 

load. 
She  urges  and  encourages  the  next. 


162 


163 


Small,  but  industrious  people!  all,  intent, 
Autumnal  fruits  provide  for  wint'ry  store. 
Or  mark  the  bee :  her  fragrant  combs  she  builds 
Deep  in  a  cavern,  or  some  ancient  oak. 

Live  not  unmarried;   Nature's  self  com- 
mands 
That  thou  should'st  form  a  rising  progeny. 
And  give  that  life  which  she  hath  giv'n  to  thee. 
*Tis  base  to  prostitute  a  wife;  you  blot 
Indelibly  your  legal  sons,  and  find 
The  spurious  issue  dissolute  and  base*. 

•  The  original  runs  thus :  Do  not  prostitute  a  wife, 
&c. 

I  suppose  that  o^m^c  relates  to  their  characters,  not 
their  persons.  It  has  long  been  observed,  that  bas- 
tards make  an  idle,  debauched,  and  useless  set  of 
men ;  which  happens,  I  believe,  partly  from  the 
vile  example  before  their  eyes,  and  partly  from  their 
education,  which  is,  in  general,  much  neglected. 


Touch  not  thy  father*s  second  joys ;  but  know 
That  she,  who  fills  the  place  thy  mother  held. 
Should,  like  a  mother,  be  rever*d  and  honoured. 
Shun  am'rous  commerce  with  thy  sister ;  shun 
Thy  father's  harlot:  let  their  beds  be  sacred. 
How  black  the  deed,  to  slay  with  impious  art 
A  harmless  fetus,  or  to  throw  the  child, 
New-born,  a  prey  to  rav'ning  dogs  and  vul- 
tures ! 
Base  is  the  wretch,  who  lifts  his  shameless 

hand. 
And  to  a  pregnant  consort  deals  a  blow. 
Despoil  not  manhood ;  Nature  meant  the  boy 
To  multiply.    Shun  foul  bestiality  : 
Nor  contumelious  gibe  the  virtuous  bride. 
Attend  to  Nature  in  your  ev*ry  act. 
Male  brutes  indignant  flee  a  male  embrace ; 
Nor  should  the  female  imitate  the  male. 


164 

Permit  not  love  to  rule  with  boundless  sway : 
Love  is  no  god ;  'tis  but  a  secret  passion. 
Tempt  not  a  brother's  wife  to  be  disloyal : 
Let  each  with  conjugal  affection  treat 
His  gentle  spouse.    What  charms  the  fancy 

more 
Than  some  fond  pair,  who  pass  their  smiling 

hours 
In  perfect  unison,  from  youth  to  age? 
Chuse  wives  with  caution :  studious  flee  the 

vile; 
Nor  yield  to  woman,  like  a  slave  to  gold. 
That  ruling  pow'r  which   Nature  gave  the 

man. 
Strange,  that  we  search  with  care  for  gen'rous 

steeds. 
With  care  chuse  dogs,  and  buy  the  lab'ring  ox, 
And  yet  are  heedless  in  our  choice  of  women  I 


165 

Though  base  the  man,  if  rich,  he'll  gain  the  fair. 

Be  not  too  fond  of  frequent  marriages : 

iVedlock,  repeated  oft,  adds  ill  to  ill. 

Parents,  be  tender ;  if  your  son  transgresses. 

Let  the  fond  mother's  gentle  hand  correct  him, 

Some  friend  dispassionate,  or  graver  sage. 

Trick  not  with  female  arts  the  rip'ning  boy ; 

Plait  not  his  hair,  nor  wave  the  flowing  curl ; 

But  leave  such  foppish  ornaments  to  girls. 

A  blooming  youth  requires  your  strict  atten« 
tion ; 

The  world  is  vicious  :  close  immur'd  the  girl 
Should  live,  nor,  ere  her  spousals,  loosely  ram- 
ble. 
Of  beauteous  children  arduous  is  the  care. 
Be  kind  and  constant  where  the  ties  of  blood 
Require  affection :  if  you  meet  a  sire, 
Whose  hoary  locks  remind  you  of  your  father, 


a 


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166       ' 

Revert?,  givtf^)pfa(re,fl!l(!^  lik^a^^alhW  fei? 

him*.  .luov 

Let  servants  have  aplenteoiis'bokfd^  kfld'jlavel 
No  scant  allowanie;  nor  impress  therii  o'er 
With  hateful  marki  of  servitude  tff  not  67ar 

'^  XMo  people  in  Greece  were  8o  reniarkaWe  for 
observing  this  rule  as  the  Lacedemonians.  I  have 
somewhere  read  a  narrative,  to  the  following  pur- 
pose:—  An  old  man,  intending  to  see  the  public 
games,  happened  to  go  first  to  the  Athenian  seats } 
here  several  young  men  rose,  as  if  to  accommodate 
him  ',  but,  on  his  approach,  they  quickly  took  their  • 
places  :  the  old  man,  thus  dbappointed  and  derided, 
went  onward  to  the  Lacedemonian  quarter,  where 
all  stood  up,  and  so  continued,  until  he  was  fixed  to 
his  satbfaction.  Aiasf  said  he,  the  Atlieniaiis  kmtv 
what  th^  ought  to  do,  but  the  Lacedemonians  do  it. 

t  We  are  supposed  to  brand  felons;  yet  the 
.  brand  is,  in  reality,  cold.  We  brand  black  cattle 
on  the  horns,  which  gives  no  uneasiness  to  the  beast : 
we  do  not  brand  horses,  because  it  would  spoil  their 
coats  :  but  our  fellow-subjects,  in  the  West  Indies, 
bum  deep  characters  on  their  defenceless  and  inno- 
cent fellow-creatures ! 


X67- 

Such  tales  as  hurt  them  in  their  mastei^'sJaJ^. 


vour. 


1 1*1  j* 


Thq  mind,  when  pure,  corrects  our  earthl  I 
I'j'o  frame., :;:;iini  lo;?  ^'.i>t\*-^''--',  u:;;^.^  <;M 
■j/These  are  the  mysteries  of  justice  ;  these,'' 

Will  lead  you  safely  to  the  verge  of  life.  ,  , 

i.)i     Jt  I.  -   •- i  i-.  ■  i.  ■  '     'J- 

y.,\ 'ir.i\i  -^  ■    -iSi  ,t\^  f".  :  '-►.!» 

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